I’m reading (and I’m not making this up) a NY Times Dining Section story on crazy Californians banning foie gras with the obligatory illustration* of a sunglass-wearing duck when all of a sudden my own ducks start quacking up a storm outside the kitchen door. As smart as my girls are, it can’t be that they’re reading over my shoulder, right? Nah. And besides, it sounded more like a startled “quack quack” than a “you go qwacky L.A. types!” (if indeed that is their political opinion on this issue.) In reality, the quacks are more mundanely sourced. It’s the cat. His water bowl is situated smack in front of a glass-paned door so that he and his sister can have entertainment with their hydration. Up until this point, it’s been cowbirds, robins and the occasional mourning dove but five full-sized ducks less than a yard away? A whole new kind of feline-on-feather interaction. Luckily, there’s a double-pane between the two species so this can’t possibly devolve into something other than a quack-growl fest.
Unless the raccoon opens the door for him.
* The duck in the illo appears to be a Pekin. Never a Cayuga or Welsh Harlequin, of course.
**Plus, if I step over it (or into it!) several times a day I can remember to keep it refilled.
Copyright 2012, Lori Fontanes
What the Ducks! 