Dead Duck Day

During today's bike ride, I saw the following:

A dead duck

And I decided he deserved an entry of his own.

The duck was on the edge of a parking lot next to my building. I figured at first that he'd been hit by a car. But then, given his position, that didn't seem so logical. His body was free of any contortion, his bill pointed slightly downward. His purely green head still shone in the sun, his wings were held tightly to his sides, and his feet were turned out the way only a duck's can be.

If he weren't quite so still, you might think he was only sleeping.

My guess is he choked on something, maybe a bit of a bagel that someone tossed out of the parking lot after finishing their meal, or maybe one of those apple cores I saw in the middle of the street, where someone didn't bother to leave it in their cupholder or somewhere else till they reached their destination. It doesn't really matter. The duck isn't alive anymore. Somewhere, some little guys may be missing him, or a female is wondering when he'll come home from work for the day.

I realize this is probably all too sentimental for something that simple. I'm no birder or anything like that, but the thing is, I really do like birds. Obviously, the most remarkable birds I've ever seen were in Hawaii. But just as likable for me are the ducks around the suburban area where I live. They seem content with racing across ponds both man-made and natural and eating the bread we're not supposed to give them.

In short, be kind to your fine feathered friends. You never know when someone will write a maudlin blog entry about the small tragedy of one mallard's demise.