In the still waters of a marshland, the Spot-billed Duck glided like a quiet secret. Its beak, tipped with a cheerful yellow spot, caught the first rays of morning light, as though nature had signed it with a brushstroke.
Pairs swam together, dipping heads, then lifting them in unison—an everyday ballet that spoke of loyalty and rhythm. Around them, dragonflies skimmed the surface and the reeds whispered in the breeze, but the ducks seemed unbothered, patient, and calm.
Unlike the restless migratory birds that visited only for a season, the Spot-billed Duck was a resident soul. It belonged to these waters, to these skies, to the cycles of rain and sun. Its presence was both ordinary and profound: a reminder that beauty often wears a simple face, waiting to be noticed by those who pause long enough to see.
Lens and Landmarks 