When The Ducks Came. Pt 1.

They had a message from God.

The Ducks came. It was July 2020.

There was a rainstorm. We had spent the summer on the main drag, Oyster Creek Drive, holding posters denouncing the mask mandates and the sonofabitch governor and county judge and mayor and all the minor demons playing their parts.

The same sonsabitches currently campaigning for re-election pretending that they protected our liberty.

Vote harder. Yeah.

Somehow in the depths of our despair over the end of the world - fin du monde - we saw from the window a small parade.

In a perfect line three ducks walked down our driveway toward a small puddle of water that had gathered near our front door. After the deluge.

Behind the 200 year old oak tree that had patiently overseen the so-called American revolution and the war between the states and the war of Texas independence and the horrific end of Texas Catholic Mexico, and too many points of history to be recalled here.

The great oak gazed outward, to the landscape. To the changing times. He saw lightening and floods. He tipped his cap. Every morning we awoke with him in our midst. He swirled the past perpetually, legions of ghosts. He is nothing if not patient.

I spoke to him regularly, as he was the true master of this house. His vast branches spread like a holy veil, protecting all those who dwelleth within who bow to respect.

Suddenly arrived two Pekins and a Harlequin.

Lenerd, Yvonne, and Bernie, as they became known.

There was no logical reason for them the three to show up, but alas in the depths of our despair they literally blew in from the east.

Chim chminie chim chim cheerie…

Down the path, with a sense of purpose.

They walked.

Winds in the east, mist coming in,
Like somethin' is brewin' and bout to begin.
Can't put me finger on what lies in store,
But I fear what's to happen all happened before.

Bernie was the lead male, as we came to know observing Lenerd’s deference to Bernie’s authority and steady droit du seigneur with poor old Yvonne, who honestly seemed more a Patty Hearst than a victim of Darwin’s fantasies. Even as a suspected half-breed harlequin and smaller, Bernie was a leader. He was so smart and he always took care of Yvonne and timid Lenerd.

Bernie protected his limited flock, including hapless hanger-on Lenerd. When the dog curiosity came round Bernie was out in front, ready to be the front line in protection of his wing duck and spouse. Lenerd observed the proper protocol, chasing the dog while menacingly bobbing his head and beak. Duck. Duck duck.

Why did they come?

There are a number of explanations. Most popular would simply be happenstance.

I prefer another explanation, related to my observation back in 2006 when my children were at the peak of joy playing indoors at a fast food establishment and I had a feeling of sorrow and doom that never left:

‘Black storm is coming and it blows to my head
Feels like it’s crashing ashore
Just like the grey I wake up to each day…
I just can’t drink it away.’

They bedded down by Phil, our massive philodendron at the corner by the pool. We just handed them food and let them go about their business.

Suddenly one morning the area was strewn with feathers and there were no ducks in sight. The daughter who never cries had some water in her eye, just a chance. These animals were hers to protect and it was a massacre. Bernie. Lenerd. Yvonne.

Nothing left but a pile of feathers. It could not be true. But it was true.

Is it over? Please tune in to part two…