In winter, there are all manner of water fowl at the Rhody Gardens. Small hyper tuxedoed Buffelheads speeding along, the elegantly-muscled Canada Geese stretching their powerful wings, the furtive painted Wood Ducks peeping quietly in the reeds, and the strange large goose with a blue horned bill, large white butt, delicately zebraed wing feathers, and a graceful countenance, making an exotic and forlorn call. Last of all are the seemingly dignified Mallards, following me en masse as I walk around the edges of the ponds. Their dignity and subtlety — as well as their surreal pursuit — becomes instantly comical when they leave the water to waddle after some children with grain ready in their pockets. They hurry along, uneven on their flippered feet, and fly away in a shudder of wind when the children turn on their eager followers. Even the geese lower themselves to begging, which puts to shame their kingly posture.