The plight of the duck

Today I had a picnic on Christ Church meadow. It was quite cold but it really was lovely. Simplicity is a wonderful thing, and just sitting on a bench by a field with a stick of bread, some cheese and an apple each is that exactly. Ripping off hunks of bread for one another with your non-sterile hands and rubbing an apple against your skirt as the only preparation required seems like such a basic and uninhibited, equalising act.

There is such a simple focus on unity and equality shared between you and that other person and the conversation seems so beautifully natural and unworried. I would highly recommend it.

Eventually, an anatidine acquaintance decided to join us. Upon arrival the duck had some fun trying to using the tip of its bill to flick a piece of a cheese into its mouth, shortly followed by some bread. It occurred to my human friend how hard it must be to be a duck, and upon seeing some food on the ground, regardless of what it was feeling the need to eat it. It must really get in the way of things sometimes, particularly if it’s a pickle or something. You wouldn’t want to eat that, but being a duck you would probably feel some degree of obligation.

And I think that is all I have to say about the matter.

Enjoy your evening, and morning, midday and night for that matter. Why not?

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One thought on “The plight of the duck

  1. from the duck whose plight you describe (transcript):
    “well you see it is not that bad being a duck, I wander around Christ Church meadow, forgetting what I’m doing or where I’m going and ….Cheese. (those cheddar slices from Sainsbury’s, you know the ones). Anyway I was just going about my business (having a ho-hum moment actually), when I noticed you, sitting there on the bench with that other human, eating in THE most unhygienic way. I mean, I wouldn’t dream of touching food with my feet. I don’t really remember what happened then but suddenly a whooshing sound filled my head, and brave music too, and a piece of cheddar cheese (Tesco’s, alas) lay there, crying out to me, weeping with the pain and anxiety of exposure. What could any self-respecting and decent duck do? Yes my friend, I ate it. It was a sacrifice, but I just saw what I had to do and did it. So you see my life is a constant pattern of making sure all is in order, taking care of bits of cheese and…….Bread. Well I suppose you admit to being simple, you & your friend – I, on the other hand am extremely complex. So you can hardly be expected to understand my chivalric acts of…..of….Cake.
    Quack.”

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