She waddled up our seen-better-days driveway,
chatting to herself the way ducks do, and stood in a puddle, commanding our attention.
She got that and much more.
All summer, we carried around bits of bread and cracker crumbs
and became her best option for some decent take out.
In exchange, she followed us around the acre like a family dog providing a
soothing backdrop of duck talk.
I often wondered exactly what
she was saying, but never could get close enough to make out
any real words. It might have been a complaint about the
bread quality or the boring variety of crackers, because she
disappeared after a few visits—on to better menus, I'm sure.
Exactly what your granny used to say, right?
"Just when you think you know what to expect,
here comes a duck."
