One day, about ten years ago, we were having a strong southerly fetch with small tornadoes popping out of the stormy front, so Julia and I were keeping an eye out the windows, watching wall clouds form and unform over our heads. Then, suddenly, there were these two ducks flying south, coming up over the houses across the street. They flew up into the air and beat their wings against the strong wind, not making any ground at all, and then finally, fell back out of our view. I’d seen these ducks before. By day they foraged to the north on the Metronics property, but roosted to the south, behind our house, on Rice Creek. Well, maybe not these exact ducks but the ducks in general that lived in these parts. So I didn’t think much of it.

But then, suddenly, the ducks appeared again in our view, rising above the rooftops from the back yards across the street, plowing into the wind, trying hard to drive forward with their wings beating, but making no ground whatsoever, but rather hovering in place with the strength and speed of the wind perfectly matching their flying effort. And, once again, they dropped out of sight.

This happened a total of about four or five times, then stopped, and Julia and I continued to marvel at the near-tornadoes forming constantly over head. Then we heard the quacking. Tired of flying nowhere, the ducks were now coming out of the neighbors yard on foot, they crossed the street on foot, passed by our house, and followed the lawn down to the play ground then into the treeline where they disappeared into the woods.

Which is better than I can say for these ducks:

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