We’ve watched the Mallards since they moved, a few weeks ago, into the stream that flows through the lower part of our front yard, wondering how long they would stay and just what, if any, purpose they had for making a home in our part of the world.

Their reasons came clear this week as a small army of ducklings appeared — baby Mallards fresh from eggs laid somewhere along the banks of our nameless stream.

When we bought the property last December, I asked Jimmy Howery, our closest neighbor, if the stream had a name.

“Yeah,” he said. “Stream.”

Now it has a real name. We’re going to call it Mallard Creek. We started a new life here and so did our newest, and closest, neighbors — the Mallards.