My life is just so interesting, I can’t even bring the clean laundry upstairs without getting bothered by ducks.
The children were all outside in our backyard when our friendly, neighborhood mallard couple came wandering by. “Mama!,” Boo yelled through the screen door. He yells this twenty times a day, so I wasn’t really paying attention. “Yes, Boo,” says I, heading upstairs with the laundry. “Mallards! In the backyard!” “Ok, Boo,” I said, halfway up the stairs. When I reached the bedroom, I had to stop to think. Did he say ‘Mallards in the backyard?’ I looked out the window and there were all three children, peering through the fence at something I couldn’t see. Not wanting to miss out on the chance to fill ya’ll in on the insane details of my life, I grabbed the camera and went out to see what all the hubbub was about.
Sure enough, mallards in the backyard. It’s important to note that my children are properly homeschooled children and called them “mallards”, not just “ducks”. In a couple of more years I expect that they will be calling them by their Latin, scientific name. Or at least make up some scientific sounding names like mallardus quackus. So anyway, the mallards were walking through the backyards. Some neighborhoods have stray cats or wild turkeys, our neighborhood has ducks and geese wandering through.
I went to get crackers with which to feed the ducks (which I located quickly and easily, thanks to my Wonderful Pantry of Love) and we went in pursuit of Mr. and Mrs. Mallard, who by this time, were now 2 houses down. Here’s some pictures.
Bip walked around, both nibbling the cracker and throwing it at the ducks, saying “Cack, cack, cack.”
Ok, duck fun over and now it’s back to the laundry…