Click the preposterously cute photo above to read the kind of amazing animal story that'll make you glad to be alive. Even if, like me, you spent too much of the day attempting to apply for a job via an online application system that refused to accept ANY number format at all for current salary.
There's something inherently cute about ducks. Part of the 2.2-mile loop that constitutes my morning constitutional goes down a path into a small wooded area surrounding a brook, and a bridge across said brook. People have been known to fish off this bridge, and there's often an elderly person or small child feeding the ducks. As a result, the ducks have learned that people = food. Yesterday as I headed down the path, a veritable Netroots Nation of ducks -- about fifty of them -- came waddling towards me, mack-mack-macking with excited anticipation. I greeted them using the diminutive species name, as is my wont to do with small cute animals, saying "Hello, duckies!" This only served to encourage them as I wound my way through the sea of mallards anticipating the kind of feast usually only seen at family reunions and G-8 meetings about world hunger. You'd think that once I'd passed through the horde without any little bullets of Wonder bread being tossed in their direction, they'd realize that the Anas Platyrhynchos equivalent of the hotdog cart just wasn't happening this morning. But no...these are persistent little buggers -- the whole crew of them followed me, mack-mack-macking, this time in reproach, all the way out to the street.
Next time I head out that way, I'm taking my camera to see if I can capture it for posterity.
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