In a classroom in England, something extraordinary happened. Ducklings hatched. There is a reason eggs and ducklings feel inseparable from spring. This is the season of beginning again. As daylight lengthens in the Northern Hemisphere, birds respond almost immediately. Their internal rhythms signal that it is time to nest, to lay eggs, to begin the fragile process of bringing new life into the world. Eggs are, perhaps, the most perfect symbol of this. What is remarkable about ducklings, and all hatchlings, is how quickly they cross the threshold from stillness to movement. Inside the egg, it waits. Suddenly, there is tapping, a crack, and a ball of yellow feathers emerge. There are small, fascinating details that make this moment even more extraordinary. Ducklings can communicate from inside the egg before they hatch, making soft sounds to synchronize with one another. They are born with the instinct to follow movement, which is why they imprint so quickly on the first figure they see. And within hours, they can walk, swim, and explore with surprising independence for something so newly arrived. There is a phrase for this season: spring chicken. In this situation: spring duckling. Originally, spring chicken meant exactly what it sounds like: a young bird hatched in spring, new to the world and full of life. As we age, the phrase becomes a reversal: I’m no spring chicken. And yet, standing in a classroom with a newly hatched duckling resting in small hands, the phrase feels closer to its original meaning again: not about age, but about being at the very beginning of something new, however briefly. Children know instinctively how to hold a newly hatched bird: carefully, curiously, and with a kind of reverence, as if they know they are holding a new beginning in their hands. Sometimes, we can hold spring in two hands.
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