Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Duck Who Lived

It's been a while since I've talked about my duck.

Oh, the duck. He is a troublesome little thing. First he causes mayhem with the other ducks in town. Then he leaves for days at a time and comes back, all apologetic, looking for food. But the other night he almost met his end.

I was sitting here, on the far end of the house, late one night, writing (not checking twitter or facebook or goodreads or google+ because I never do that when I should be writing) when I heard a loud noise outside. Now I'm not talking about the noise the ice maker makes in the middle of the night that about scares me to death when everything is quiet and the ice clunks into the container. No, this noise was LOUD and right outside the window behind me. My heart jumped into my throat and I learned that in the 'fight or flight' scenario, I fall firmly in the category of flight. I tore through the house like a crazed zebra being chased by a lion to where my husband was reading in our bedroom.

"Hi," he said.

"Someone is trying to break into our house," I said because I never overreact. "Go save us."

He chuckled a little, because he knows I never overreact and stood up. I followed him through the house, clutching the telephone that I must've grabbed in my crazed zebra state. He got a flashlight and went outside.

"Hello," he called into the night.

"Don't announce you're here," I hissed from the doorway behind him.

Where we live, out in the country, it is dark. No streetlights at all. His flashlight beam cut through the blackness and I held up the phone to show the bad guy that I was armed.

"There's no one out here," he said and that's when our duck, looking very much like a crazed wild animal, flapped out from behind the garbage cans and started running in circles. I saw the dark spot on his white feathers.

"Blood. Something attacked the duck." There was an obvious bite mark in his wing.

We're still not sure what attacked it, but I'm convinced it was a werewolf. My husband thinks it was probably a coyote. We'll see who was right soon enough.

As for the duck, he'll have a little scar on his wing and he's probably acting as a horcrux now for a piece of some werewolf's soul. Other than that, he's perfectly fine (no thanks to my flight response).


  1. I love your duck stories. I'm glad he's okay, but better keep an eye on him at the next full moon.

  2. The duck horcrux!! I have heard of such things, but it is dark, dark, dark, dark, VERY dark magic.



  3. LOL! Is your duck's scar shaped like a lightning bolt?

  4. Oh Kasie. your duck is meant for great and terrible things.

    Great and terrible, indeed. ;-)

  5. HA. This story cracks me up. Maybe because I would do the exact same thing.

    But I'm sorry about the duck becoming a werewolf horcrux. That doesn't crack me up. That's really sad, actually . . .

  6. Kimberly, lol For sure! Now I want one. :)

    Kristie, You're totally right, I don't need any were-ducks running around here.

    Shelley, HA! I love that I've opened it up for all these Harry Potter quotes. It makes me happy inside. :)

    Linda, I can only hope. :)

  7. Jenn, I love the quote. It's so contradictory and yet so awesome. I think my duck leans more towards the terrible side, but we'll see. :)

    Renee, it is sad, isn't it? And scary. I really hope that werewolf never needs to come collect this particular piece of his soul.

  8. Poor horcrux duck. Hopefully the werewolf leaves you guys alone. Keep your silver bullets handy! ;)

  9. I see a book here. Ducky the werewolf slayer.