We have ducks. By which I mean, there are wild ones in the area where we live, and I and my cats are enchanted by them. I like the ducks. So Saturday rolls around and it’s hot so I think it’s the perfect time to get a big bucket of water, throw the beach blanket out, and catch some sun on my roof deck.
I may have napped, but around three I came back and sprawled with a boom on the couch. Then I hear quacking. Sounds like one of the two boys. I quack back. I hear a strange quack I don’t recognize, and the cats and I go to look. We find a momma duck, all fat as can be. I decide she must be eggy and say hello, we’re nice, you’re welcome to stay. She quacks at me, and wanders around checking us out, checking the wart, and the boy duck is running around all fretting. It was cute.
Leaving the blinds cracked, I watch this and my cat is in the window, avidly avian watching. And I burp. No. Belch. Loud. A hand flies to my mouth and the momma duck turns to me and quacks loudly. Insane giggles at home. The ducks quack once more and then swim away.
I may be an honorary duck now.