May Magic: Ducklings, Goslings, Dragonflies, and the Wildlife Drama I Apparently Needed - May 12, 2026

May has officially become all about babies and bees for me as a wildlife photographer. After work yesterday, I grabbed my camera and set out with one mission in mind:

Find. Me. Some. Babies. Not human babies, obviously. Wildlife babies.

The fluffy kind. The wobbly kind. The tiny, fearless, “I am three inches tall and somehow have more confidence than most adults” kind.

So I headed to a local “royal” pond and if you’re from Victoria, you probably know exactly which pond I mean. With mallards and wood ducks hanging around, I figured my chances of running into ducklings were pretty high.

But before I even made it onto the path, nature decided to kick off the evening with a little scandal.

Right beside the path, on a bush, I spotted two dragonflies mating.

Excuse me, nature?

I froze.

I have never seen dragonflies mating in the wild before, and there they were, right in front of me, locked together in what can only be described as an elegant blue aerial yoga pose.

Both dragonflies were a gorgeous ombré blue, almost glowing in the afternoons light. They were completely still, which gave me a chance to study them through my camera lens for a moment. Their wings. Their colour. Their strange, delicate, beautiful shape.

And then I immediately felt like I had walked in on something. Because I had.

So I did what any respectful wildlife paparazzi would do: I snapped one photo and gave them their privacy. You’re welcome, dragonflies.

Did you know?

Dragonflies often mate in a distinctive “wheel” or “heart-shaped” position. The male clasps the female behind her head with special appendages at the end of his abdomen, and the female curls her body forward to receive sperm. It may look delicate and romantic, but dragonfly mating is actually a highly specialized acrobatic event. Nature really said, “Make it complicated, but make it aerodynamic.”

Honestly, the evening had barely started and already the pond had drama, romance, and choreography. I walked the entire pond, scanning the waterline, the reeds, the grasses, and every tiny ripple. No ducklings. Not one. The audacity.

I was starting to think maybe the baby parade had been cancelled when I spotted something small moving near the path. Then another. Then another.

And suddenly, there she was: Mama Mallard with six tiny ducklings, marching across the path toward another pond like she had scheduled an important family meeting and everyone was expected to keep up.

It was magical.

Mama Mallard was cautious, keeping one watchful eye on the people who had stopped to admire and photograph her family. But overall, she was calm and focused. She knew where she was going, and she had one job: get those babies safely to the next pond.

And the ducklings?

Oh. My. Goodness.

Tiny yellow-and-black puffballs with legs.

They strutted around like they owned the entire park. Not a care in the world. Confidence high. Outfits fluffy. Mission clear.

Walk. Peck. Eat. Follow Mom. Repeat.

They were not worried about the path, the people, the cameras, or the fact that they were approximately the size of a tennis ball with feet. They just focused on what was in front of them.

Finding food. Keeping up. Being adorable. Ruining me emotionally.

Did you know?

Mallard ducklings are “precocial,” which means they hatch with their eyes open, covered in down, and are able to walk, swim, and feed themselves very soon after hatching. Their mother protects and guides them, but from the very beginning, they are already surprisingly capable.

So yes, technically those ducklings had just arrived on earth and were already handling life better than I do before coffee.

Inspirational, honestly.

After the duckling magic, I headed to another park hoping to see goslings.

And guess what?

Did I or did I?

Yes. I did.

Nature really looked at me and said, “Jennifer needs emotional support fluff today.”

At first, the goslings were in a small pond with their loving and devoted Canada Goose parents nearby. The little ones floated close together, soft yellow fuzz glowing against the water, while both parents kept watch.

Then the family decided it was time to get out of the pond and hit the grass buffet.

One by one, the goslings followed their parents out of the water and began their tiny parade around the pond. They picked through the grass, nibbled at seeds, and moved with the same outrageous confidence I had seen in the ducklings.

These baby birds had more self-assurance than I have ever had entering a meeting, a grocery store, or a group chat.

Their little fuzzy yellow bodies and tiny fluffy butts were almost too much to handle.

Both parents stayed close.

Dad took on the role of sentinel, standing guard, watching people, and keeping other geese away. He had very strong “security has entered the chat” energy.

Mama stayed near the babies, grazing and gently moving through the grass with them, almost twinning with her little ones as they picked at the ground together.

It was tender. Protective. Attentive. A little intimidating. Very goose.

Eventually, after walking, eating, exploring, and serving absolute baby bird excellence, the goslings got tired and settled into the sweetest little cuddle puddle on the grass.

Geese get such a bad reputation, but when you watch them as parents, it is impossible not to be moved by them. They are devoted in a way that feels ancient and deeply intelligent. They protect their babies fiercely, guide them constantly, and stay close enough that those little goslings can explore the world with confidence.

Did you know?

Canada Goose parents are highly protective, and both adults help raise the goslings. The young stay with their parents for many weeks, learning where to feed, how to stay safe, and how to navigate the world as a family group.

Basically, goose parenting is not a hobby. It is a full-time security operation with snacks.

I sat there for the longest time. Other people came and went. Dogs passed by. People talked. The world kept moving around us. But I stayed focused on the goslings.

On their softness. On their confidence. On the way they rested together when they were tired. On the way their parents surrounded them with quiet protection. And in that moment, I felt that familiar stillness settle over me, the kind I only seem to find in nature. Sometimes it is hard to explain why nature is so healing for my mental health.

But yesterday, sitting beside that pond, watching goslings nap in a cuddle puddle while their parents stood guard, I understood it again.

Nature narrows the world for me. Not in a small way. In a grounding way.

For a little while, I am not thinking about everything that feels heavy. I am not carrying the chaos of the world on my shoulders. I am not lost in worry, grief, stress, noise, or whatever fresh nonsense the universe has decided to throw into the group project.

I am simply watching.

Nature pulls me back into the present moment. It reminds me that life is still happening in tiny, beautiful, determined ways all around us.

Even in a world that feels chaotic, ducklings still strut forward.

As if the evening had not already given me enough, a Great Blue Heron decided it was dinner time beside the pond.

And, very generously, it posed beautifully.

Thank you, sir.

Above us, more Great Blue Herons squawked from their rookery nests high in the tall pine trees. Below, the Canada Goose family continued to forage and eventually settled in to nap.

It was amazing to witness two very different species sharing the same busy urban space.

People came and went. Voices passed through. The world buzzed around them.

And yet, the herons focused on their rookery, the goose family focused on food and rest, and everyone somehow carried on with the business of being wild.

There is a lesson in that somewhere.

Maybe it is this: even when the world around us is loud, we can still return to what matters. Food. Family. Rest. Shelter. Safety. The present moment. And maybe a little confidence.

The ducklings and goslings already seem to understand this.

Keep moving forward. Stay close to those who protect you. Eat your snacks. Rest when you are tired.

And, whenever possible, walk through the world with the confidence of a baby duckling crossing a path while several humans lose their minds over how cute you are.

The photo adventure reminded me why I keep going back outside with my camera.

I went looking for babies, and nature absolutely delivered: dragonflies, ducklings, goslings, geese, and a Great Blue Heron standing quietly at the edge of the pond.

But more than that, nature gave me a moment of peace. A moment of wonder. A moment of softness in a hard world. And maybe that is the real magic of May.

The babies arrive, full of fluff and courage, and remind us that life keeps beginning again.