The Father Duck and the Forgotten Masculine

Today I was travelling through Ashton, like I do most mornings after the gym. The Adelaide Hills, clean, fresh air, that sharp kind that wakes your lungs up. It was a beautiful day with a bit of rain hanging around, those light showers that make everything smell new again.

As I came around the twisting roads, I saw two adult ducks crossing with their ducklings. I slowed right down. And in that moment, something simple, something primal unfolded.

The mother duck held back, keeping the ducklings close, watching with that quiet awareness only a mother has. But the father duck? He ran straight towards the car, chest out, head up, ready to attack a steel beast that could crush him in an instant.

No calculation.

No hesitation.No fear of not winning.

Just one thing:

Protect the family.

And it hit me, in a world so obsessed with self-reflection, self-diagnosis, self-healing, and self-protection, we’ve forgotten the simplest, oldest form of masculinity. Not the postured, polished, performance masculinity. Not the curated, filtered, Instagram “discipline” masculinity. And not the wounded-boy energy hiding under spiritual language.

I’m talking about the masculinity that doesn’t need an audience.The masculinity that doesn’t ask, “What do I get out of this?”The masculinity that moves because that’s who he is.

But look at where we are now.

We live in a culture so hyper-focused on the self that everything becomes someone else's fault.

Childhood wounds blamed endlessly on parents.Poor coping strategies projected onto partners.Financial stress turned into resentment towards others.Emotional reactions framed as someone else’s responsibility, cause and effect.

We’ve created a world where the ego has become the centre of all meaning. Everything is about “me” my triggers, my trauma, my needs, my sensitivities, my wounds.

And with so much focus on self, how do we expect to build true masculinity?

I’m not talking about the masculinity of having goals, direction, and ambition, although those matter. I’m not talking about toxic toughness or the cliché idea of being “the provider.” And I’m definitely not talking about the version of masculinity that pretends to be grounded and strong but is secretly performing to get validation, sex, affection, or approval.

No.

I’m talking about the masculinity that protects, cares, and builds because it’s who he is, not because it earns him anything.

Masculinity that says:

“I protect because it’s what I do.”

“I build shelter because I care for those under my care.”

“I move forward not to gain something, but because that’s the man I choose to be.”

A man grounded in himself doesn’t need to take from others.

He doesn’t manipulate through charm or emotional games.

He doesn’t use “healing language” as a mask for entitlement.

He simply acts with integrity because that is the foundation he stands on.

Somewhere along the way, we traded the natural instinct of the father duck, that raw, unfiltered masculine instinct to guard and protect, for lessons, programmes, and behavioural systems designed to optimise ourselves for self-gain.

But maybe we don’t need more optimisation.

Maybe we need more instinct.

More responsibility.

More quiet strength.

Maybe we need to remember that the deepest form of masculinity isn’t loud, complicated, or strategic.

It's simple:

Care.

Protect.

Build.

Not for attention.

Not for reward.

But because that is who you choose to be.

With out real change, we still have our heads burried in the sand.