Fly On, My Fine Feathered Friends

It has come to my attention recently that there are actually people who enjoy my writing. I’m not just talking about my wife saying “That’s funny, honey”. I’m not even talking about my daughter Brianna who has shared my writing with friends on occasion. I am talking about people outside of my house. I must admit that I find this gratifying. I feel something of a bond with those who follow my writing. It is with that very bond in mind that I feel the need to once again inform and (hopefully) entertain.

I am going to use this particular writing so that I pay tribute to one of God’s finest creatures. I do not know exactly when it was that this creature earned its rightful place of respect in my life. I just know that over the years, it has made its way into many areas of my life. I speak of none other than that great majestic waterfowl —the duck. That’s right, I said it; the duck. I am not ashamed and I feel better for getting it off my chest. The duck has made its way into many parts of my life. From as early as I can remember, I have referred to my four kids as “the ducks”. I don’t know why I started doing that. Maybe it was the vision of a drake with four ducklings marching in line (or thinking of myself as a drake). All I know is that it became a term of affection toward my kids that stuck. I have even referred to my kids individually as Duck I, Duck II, etc. If I call for Duck I and Duck IV, Tom and Caleb will acknowledge me. Shayna and Brianna will go about their business (as they are Ducks II and III respectively).

About a year ago, my son Tom was shopping with his girlfriend in a party supply store. Apparently, they had a clearance sale on miniature rubber ducks. Tom’s girlfriend then graciously gifted with about 10 of these cool collectibles. I have a trucker ducky, a hunter ducky with a pith helmet, a pirate ducky, a nurse ducky, and even a Hawaiian ducky (wearing a very nice lei). From there, the collection has grown quite nicely. I have duckies that light up when you tap them. I even have a game of “Duck, Duck, Goose” that my son, Tom, got for me. I don’t know who it was that said this but it’s true: “With a rubber duck, one’s never alone”.

Now it would be easy for anybody on the outside to say that I am just suffering from a duck obsession. I would contend however that my duck fixation is kept in a healthy balance. After all, I am certainly not above eating of those fine feathered creatures. I rather like a fine roasted duck. Nonetheless, the idea of how they make duck sauce keeps me awake at night. In addition one cannot ignore the way the duck has permeated our popular culture. We have ducks as cartoon characters (most of which have a speech problem; bless their hearts). There is even a sports team named after ducks. I am not too sure about that one. I’m sorry, Anaheim. I just don’t find a duck to be a very intimidating creature. Then again, neither is a maple leaf (forgive me, Toronto).

So, mock me if you wish. I can take it. I shall continue to find great delight as I stare at my rubber ducky collection. All I can do is look to the skies and see this fine creatures flying in a fine V formation. Fly on, my fine feathered friends. I salute you. Now, if you fine readers will pardon me, I am going to call for some take out.


3 thoughts on “Fly On, My Fine Feathered Friends

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