So y’all know I don’t do ‘nature’, but I do enjoy ‘taking it all in’. Especially on my own terms- behind screens and glass, with climate control and refuge from swarming gnats, hungry mosquitoes and asshole-bees.
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My parentals’ large yard and many trees attract all the wildlife, with bunnies scampering about, hummingbirds flittering by, oh, and there’s Fred and Ethel, a duck pair that comes through on the daily for bread crumbs and our good company. Much to my mother’s dismay and to the detriment of her gardening efforts, Gia and I have also been feeding the squirrels. Boog’s fascinated by them so we throw peanuts outside the door and wait quietly… then they run up and snack while staring her down. She loves it, but I most enjoy Fred and Ethel. When grandma came over to hang out, I told her about the pair which immediately sent her down memory lane and landed us in 1959. Her and my grandpa were new parents and would take the boys to the park every weekend to play and feed the ducks. On one trip, they noticed this guy chasing the ducks around. Upon closer observation, he appeared to be trying to capture one. And he did, and he calmly walked to his car, threw it in the backseat, jumped in and drove away, duck all flapping for his life in the back window. Later they found out from another park-goer that dude had been coming through every weekend for a minute, snatching up ducks and taking them home for dinner. Really?! Park ducks are friends. Not food.
