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Fit For Ducks
30 August, 2003
author: Rebecca Ditch-Hammack (aka Dreamer)

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     The Cackling of ducks filled the air as I took the first step out the door. It was another rainy day. There had been three rainy days previous to this one. The weatherman said this would be the last for a while. I was glad, to say the least.

     The first day the rain was quite welcome. The grass needed a drink. The sand and gravel road needed a good moistening to keep down the dust. Now it was getting tiresome and dreary.

     I watched, as the young ducklings seemed to think the newest mud puddle was an exciting new swimming hole. Three of them happily paddled around in it, quacking the whole while. I had to wonder where they thought they were going to go in that 4 foot across mud hole. It wasn’t that far away that they had a wonderful pond with the proper swimming and fishing for ducks. For some reason the ducklings were enjoying the latest addition to the landscape. Each one simultaneously decided they were done. They stood up, in the knee-deep water, and waddled out. They all shook out their tail-feathers as if they were totally annoyed by the moisture left behind.

     There are a couple dozen ducks in all. Most of them are mallards. Just the run of the mill, pond ducks. There are also a mix of domestic white ducks, white and gray ducks and a strange breed that always look dirty with buzzard faces. They sort of look like they have a case of bad acne. The white ducks are quite a bit larger than the others but are treated as part of the mallard family. The red-faced, buzzards looking ducks tend to stay off by themselves a bit more. They seem to be happiest near the pond. Today they were no where to be seen. It seems that today just the young mallards are playing around in the rain.

     All the ducks are quite tame. My dog Jazzy had gotten loose a few days ago. She is part Chow and German Shepard and scares most humans when they see her. Not these ducks. She walked right into the mix of them and sniffed the big ones behind. The duck just turned around and looked casually and waddled off like it was no big deal.

     I figured it was either really dumb or really smart duck. Had it run Jazzy would have gladly obliged it with a chase. Maybe it was just too hot to run or fly. Perhaps the duck just understood how dogs are.

     I watched the as the ducks moved away single file toward another puddle further down the road. It brought a smile to my face despite the rain. I listened as the cackling of the chatty ducklings slowly drifting further from my ears.

     I looked up at the rain falling. It hit the awning, over my head, with a sound of a hundred plops. Yep... It is definitely a day most fit for ducks.

Comments on this poem/writing:

ROY C CLAXTON JR (67.212.39.43) -- Saturday, September 21 2002, 08:54 am


I LET MY GRANDCHILDREN READ WITH ME ON THE COMPUTER STORYS LIKE THIS--THEY LOVE IT AND WE GOT PETE,MICKY,AND CHASE DOGS THAT LIVE NEXT DOOR TO PEACOCKS--THEY GOT NO DUCKS--JUST GARBAGE TRUCKS TO CHASE 500 FOOT FENCE LINE
 
Name:                                           Remember Me

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