Thanks, Claude. I love ducks - have ever since I was a kid. I love the ungainliness of them, the awkwardness of walking with webbed feet, their seeming aerodynamic flaws, and their beauty when flying in formation.
When I have been the most depressed in my life, I have gone to feed the ducks. This is now a prohibited activity, however, which is quite a bummer in itself.
I've another friend who used to fee ducks when depressed, too. She said when she was little, she thought they were always laughing.
I lived in an apartment for awhile in a wetland. We had our own little pond system, and the waterfowl would nest there in the spring (much to the frustration of the neighbors on that side, who were hosing duck and goose poop off the walk every morning). I'd go feed them, and the chicks would come tumbling over themselves, and each other, and start picking at my white shoe laces.
When I was a kid, I was chased by a mother goose whose gosling I had managed to corner and capture (It looked soooo soft! And it was!). But that's another story (though I must say, I still prefer ducks to geese, with the possible exception of the Canadian variety),
Thanks for posting this.
uqnuihe: equine? (my associations seem to be getting a little looser these days)
Thanks, Claude. I love ducks - have ever since I was a kid. I love the ungainliness of them, the awkwardness of walking with webbed feet, their seeming aerodynamic flaws, and their beauty when flying in formation.
ReplyDeleteWhen I have been the most depressed in my life, I have gone to feed the ducks. This is now a prohibited activity, however, which is quite a bummer in itself.
I've another friend who used to fee ducks when depressed, too. She said when she was little, she thought they were always laughing.
I lived in an apartment for awhile in a wetland. We had our own little pond system, and the waterfowl would nest there in the spring (much to the frustration of the neighbors on that side, who were hosing duck and goose poop off the walk every morning). I'd go feed them, and the chicks would come tumbling over themselves, and each other, and start picking at my white shoe laces.
When I was a kid, I was chased by a mother goose whose gosling I had managed to corner and capture (It looked soooo soft! And it was!). But that's another story (though I must say, I still prefer ducks to geese, with the possible exception of the Canadian variety),
Thanks for posting this.
uqnuihe: equine? (my associations seem to be getting a little looser these days)
okbtla: ok, bigtime LA