Our upper level condo unit overlooks Little Silver Lake, a secluded body of water down the block from the Atlantic Ocean and Jenkinson’s boardwalk. That’s down the block, the same way we Jerseyites say “Down the Shore”. Which makes Little Silver Lake a curious secret since we had vacationed down the shore for 15 years before discovering that the lake existed.
It was by serendipity that a realtor showed us the condo and we fell in love with the open water views on entering the front door at first sight.
We still maintain a presence in North Jersey, where our Vision & Learning Center is located, but we find ourselves increasingly drawn to nature’s hidden beauty on the Lake. There’s a charm to every season, and when the Lake freezes in the winter it’s a work of beauty to see the seagulls collect in one spot to warm the ice, nabbing the unsuspecting fish that float by just beneath the surface.
The summer is well-known for bringing “Bennies”, day-trippers and commerce to the area, but on the Lake summer is admired for revealing another layer of nature’s hidden secrets.
Over the past few years, the Resident swans, dubbed Jack and Jill by our granddaughters, have graced the Lake with cygnets — a single cygnet three years ago, triplets last year, and twins this year named Emily and Max. The swans are beautiful, and we discovered the lovely transport system that Jill uses to carry Emily and Max as newborns on her back. But they are also fiercely territorial, and Jack has a hissy-fit if geese or gulls come too close to his little ones.
This made yesterday’s sighting of baby ducklings an exciting event. How would the ducks and swans co-mingle?
Very well, as it turned out. There was only minor incident, with Jack hissing as we showed favoritism in making too much of a fuss over the baby ducklings for his liking. When we do or say something the swans find appealing, they wag their posteriors in approval. We share communication through body language and the sounds that one learns by observation, and by trial and error.
Emily and Max grow by leaps and bounds each week and one day, unannounced they will leave Little Silver Lake to establish their respective homes elsewhere. We have no idea where they will fly, long-necked in full-extension like the nose of an airplane. They may find a quiet lake that will delight a family of humans who will discover them, by chance, when looking for a place of beauty to call home.