Just Ducky

While waiting for the fog to burn off so that I can go out and play in the dirt I was catching up on my reading in the Land of Blog. Over at Casa Hice there were geese!! A little video to watch and the sound of honking roused my fur babies out of their nap. Took me back in time .........


We lived in Albany, Georgia, many, many years ago when my children were in elementary and middle school. One year was memorable ....... I think I will call it the year of the duck. Jeff and Jill were in middle school, with a duck pond close by. We lived within walking distance, although they would no doubt disagree with me on that.


Jill's science class took on the project of hatching ducks that year. I am sure that the eggs were harvested at the infamous duck pond mentioned earlier. I was vaguely aware of this endeavor as we would hear talk around the dinner table of school happenings. I was working at a fabric store during this time. I started part-time for the discount on my purchases and eventually became the manager, then a district manager; but that is another story. Like all working moms, my day off was devoted to house cleaning.


One particular day I was tackling Jeff's room. Actually his room was the easiest to do normally. This day I was pulling the sheets off his bed ........... his water bed. (Hey, it was the 80's!!) I noticed that the sheets felt really warm as I grabbed them and started pulling. Puzzled, I checked the thermostat and noted that he had it on the highest temp. I fixed that and made a mental note to tell him later and ask why he wanted it so high. As I pulled the sheets and pillows I discovered the reason ............


A duck egg. In the bed. In the hot bed, under a pillow. He was going to try to hatch a duck. He was no doubt sleeping on top of the comforter, careful not to disturb his treasure, sweating all night. He had risked being chased and bitten by a duck to grab this egg. This egg that his mom disposed of unceremoniously. All I could think was the egg rotting and cracking in the bed. I did admire his ingenuity while I was tossing out his treasure, in a house that already housed too many pets.


Ironically, when Jill's class witnessed the ducklings break out of their shells and make their debut into the world she volunteered to take one home. She named him Howard and he was, without doubt, the meanest animal in our unlikely menagerie of pets. He loved her, but would chase and bite anyone else. The poor meter reader was always under attack at our house. He was initially scared of our St. Bernard, Nicholas (yes, his name was St. Nicholas and was a Christmas present to the kids). Little did he know that he would eventually be bitten by a duck and chased by a guinea pig named Harriet.