I’m sure in the wild, ducks are all like “Oh, man, there’s a human! Let’s get out of here!”
But here in suburbia, ducks seem to get all gangsta anytime my kids and I try to take a nice walk around a city park.
Case in point:
Today was warm, but with a pleasant breeze, and since we’ll be in Houston Summer Hibernation Mode soon enough, I thought I’d take Eli to visit a local “park,” complete with it’s own “lake.” (Yes, the quotes are necessary. It’s my Oregon-based Nature Superiority Complex showing.)
We entered through the gate (this “park” happens to be fully enclosed) and quickly headed across the quaint little “bridge.” (Sorry, I can’t omit the quote marks even if I tried.)
Ohhh, PHOTO OPP!
But while I was fooling with the app on my iPhone for drawing out the best exposure for this photo – a task that took me maybe 45 seconds – we managed to draw some attention. Some unwanted attention.
Oh, Hi! Um…you’re all fairly little, and don’t you look cute with your mussed up just-out-of-the-water feathers? “C’mon, Eli,” I called to my son “let’s just cross the rest of that bridge.”
But our posse followed us.
Ok, a leeeetle too close for comfort!
But when I whipped around, I saw about six more ducks emerging from the water in front of us. My son started running to the nearby gazebo, where three LARGE ducks were waiting.
That’s when my son shrieked a little, and I started getting worried.
But I got really worried when we scooted around our first little gaggle of gangsta ducks, only to find two HUGE ducks stationed in the center of the bridge.
Why are there no pictures of this, you ask? Because my camera was in my pocket while I used both hands to scoop my child up into my arms to keep him from being eaten.
I’m sure I looked like an idiot charging the ducks on the bridge, hollering at them as I passed, but it made them back off enough to get us to the other side.
On the way back out through the gate, my son spotted a large rock with a dedication plaque on it and ran over to it. “What does it say?!” he asked. But to my ABSOLUTE HORROR, when I walked over to read the plaque to him, I spotted a sweet, yellow, fuzzy DEAD duckling just above the plaque on the rock. WHAT THE????!!!!
We got back to our car and it took every rational thought in my head not to lock it once we were inside. Such an entirely creepy experience, and it all transpired in just the space of 5 or 6 minutes.
Before we drove away, my son observed in a worried tone, “Look, Mom, the gate is blowing open” (and indeed, it had – the breeze had picked up). Let’s just hope those ducks didn’t get a good look at my license plate!
Tell me: have you ever had a crazy run-in with aggressive suburban ducks?