Day 50 - Lyle

We were feeding the ducks today when a little old voice piped up. "That's a hen, and that's a boy." I whirled around to see a crumpled, petite, Levis- clad man looking at us. He had on his wide-billed "Lundemans Feed and Grain" hat, and a turquoise belt buckle. I put him at 80, judging by his slumping posture and trembling hands.

And so I became educated in the myriad types and brands of ducks at the pond. My new friend had come to Arizona in 1980, from Iowa. He had owned and worked a farm with 150 head of cattle, and every known creature wandered his grounds. Lyle and his wife initially kept the farm, but in recent years gave over control to his sons. He chose McCormick Ranch because he needed to still see grass, which is abundant in our community. Other Scottsdale neighborhoods adhere to the more indigenous, and Eco-friendly desert zero scape. It's a familiar refrain heard from East coast and Midwest transplants.

Lyle went on and on. He talked about how he walks the same circuit around the lake, every day. Day in, and day out. The man knew what ducks will nip, and which ones you can hand feed. He talked about castrating cows, his wife's successful housecleaning business, and how he has seen Scottsdale explode in the past 29 years. Lyle never asked me a question about myself, or where I was going, or how old my children were. It's okay. It was my turn to listen. Lyle was 82 years old, and slightly taken aback when I asked his age. But I wanted to know. When I'm that age, I hope I have some wisdom to impart, the same joy in my step, and the ability to take the same long walk every day.