I have some deeper thoughts to put down here, but I haven’t the mind to put them down now. I need to finish thinking through them first. Once they’re in palatable form, I will write them down. With any luck, it will be worth reading then.
To tide you over until then, here’s a tidbit.
My family really likes ducks. It comes from my dad’s side of the family. His side of the family knows everything about ducks. Seriously, I have never seen my grandfather see or hear a bird he didn’t recognize and know everything about. I have a rather mild case of admiration for them, compared to other members of my family. I really don’t know much about ducks in general, but I love a little. Mostly, I just think they’re great. My family hunts ducks, my grandfather professionally carves ducks, we eat ducks, and we have raised ducks.
We raised six mallard ducklings on year for fun. Mine was phenomenal and was named Webster. Anyway, the reason that I’m mentioning all of this is because I get a bit of flack when my friends find out that I like them so much, and lately, ducks keep coming up.
There are mallard ducks in the pond at our apartment complex right now, and I’ve been spotting them on my routes while running. Mallards aren’t necessarily my favorite, but they are so prevalent and the drakes are so handsome and the hens so cute.
Photos from google images.