A duckling worked with us for a time, nibbling on plants while we weeded. A heron perched on a nearby log. Some of us dug into a thick stand of reed canary grass, others of us combed over an area we had worked before, clipping and pulling reed canary grass from among native rushes and sedges. We ferreted out thistle, blackberry, and mullein, lifted bags of plant clippings up to the bridge, pushed them across the boardwalk, drove them across the street to be composted. A perfect day of quiet resistance.