Duck Duck Goose

As I drove into the parking lot I saw a family of exotically colored ducks. Or maybe they were geese. They were very likable regardless of their creed. Honking out of their mouths with a diverse palette on their feathers they were a charming group. I could see why someone could feed them a meal of bread crumbs and still feel good about themselves afterward.

The next morning I drove up to the same spot in the lot. The family of four ducks were the only other occupants of the lot. They were honking and quacking and making all kinds of noises which put a smile on my face even at this early hour on a Sunday.

Slowly the alpha duck of the group began waddling toward my car. I was taking my time getting some of the paraphernalia I needed for the day’s work, so he left my frame of vision. Then suddenly I heard a loud thud on the roof of my car. I looked around and saw the big duck was nowhere to be found.

I exited my car with slight trepidation.  Was he going to attack me with his bill? I jumped out of the car to see the bird standing on my car like it was his. The duck eyeballed me. He didn’t have any eyelids, so I ended up blinking first. I had another place to be, he didn’t. I ceded my car to be part of his territory.

Big mistake. Later in the day when I needed to get something from my car the duck was nowhere to be found. But he left something for me to remember him by. A big, stinking brown piece of poop that was already caked onto my roof by the afternoon sun. Those ducks did not seem so charming any more.


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