Treatise On The Fluff-Addled Critters Of Watered Bodies Of The Pond Variety

          I had come prepared, of course. As all good explorers would, I had learned how to depict things before my eyes, I had studied biology extensively. I was an expert, I was a professional, and yet before this challenge, I was but a lost amateur, devoid of experience.

          The strange… fluffy thing had emerged from the undergrowth with little ceremony and little interest, and yet stood poised like royalty, and stared at me with a confidence unmatched. Two dark, unassuming eyes gazed at me from upon a rather obvious skull — or at least, what I would presume to be a standard skull — covered in soft white fluffy materials. It was curious, and belied signs of great intelligence, and yet that was by far the least enigmatic part of its person.

          Protruding from the face of this thing was a snout-like organ, flat in shape and red-yellow by color, with which it seemed to direct at any object of its curiosity, be it man or plant. In reaching out to examine this item, it seemed to recoil – A subject of some sensitivity.

          Its body, or at minimum the center of its mass, was a large teardrop-shaped structure with a clear tail and slender neck leading to the plank-bearing skull. It was soft, or at least soft in the places I managed to make contact, before it backed off warily. I sought to gain its trust, of course. For research, and to prove my mettle as a professional in biology. Alas, I was warned against supplying the wildlife with food without information, as that was a quick way to kill off even the most amicable of species, so I sought to observe the soundful creature’s habits.

          The sound, that is another thing – This creature would part its buck jaw panel bill? And let out a sound, which I will endeavor to give an onomatopoeia – Ack? Ack, perhaps. Ack-Ack. But that sounds like a bad laugh. There’s something jovial but not quite hackish about it. Soft but plosive. Wah? Wack? No… Quack! That’s the ticket! It quacks, sometimes beak open, sometimes beak closed, and it seems unduly cheerful about absolutely everything.

          That’s to speak of nothing of how it treads this particular world. Two triangular webbed feet of a similar color to the beak flipped and marched resolutely or curiously in any particular direction. What’s more, they took on a new meaning when it sits upon the water, and they instead rival the propellers of man as it kicks smartly forth upon the waves, but so subtly that you’d be forgiven for not realizing it had legs at all.

          All of this is nothing to the rare but crowning achievement of this quackish creature, a sight for few but the most patient and least threatening of explorers – fins, almost, but fluffy and broad, which added to the teardrop shape of this creature, spread like arms in either direction. At first I figured these were for show, like the wag of a dog’s tail or the posture of a cat, but then, and few may believe it as I describe it, these fins slapped, no- fluffed down- nay, flapped down and the rush of air propelled the vessel of the creature skyward! It soared like it was swimming, like it was meant to sail skyward, onward, and far. In none too long, it appeared to be gone.

          I had sat back, and decided to lunch, noting down my ethereal experience with the billed angel and munching on the sandwich that had been prepared so nicely, when it returned – And not alone, but with droves and droves of similar creatures of varying colors, shapes, and sizes! Some were patterned in browns with spots of white, some were a shadowy black, some grays, some off-whites, but my new friend was the only one of such a glossy color and such a curious nature, that I suspect they bear more than just curiosity – but personality, to boot.

          It approached me, and my noontime snack and seemed to seek a nibble which I offered gratefully (Though I am doubtful bread alone would sustain one with such abilities as flight, or every breadmaker might be a skyfarer. My nutritionist would likely also have a go at me if I suggested that was enough, so I made sure to provide it more tomato than bread, enough so that I was sorely lacking in fruit but not in carbs).

          It was then, that I desired a new frontier: To pick up this… featheren breathren. It approached me, as I stood, for I needed it to understand my full height before agreeing, and I placed my hand flatly on the ground. This was unsuccessful, the critter instead assumed I was providing more food – which I was not, but I was shortly guilted into. Upon which, I almost rhetorically questioned my fluffy friend about what I should call him. A muffled quack emitted from his beak which sounded rather like “Dwack”. But dwack would never be taken seriously in scientific circles. Perhaps, then, I can merge the two words? “Duck” is a nice single syllable, and mixes pleasantly between “Dwack” and “Quack”. A duck, it is.

          It is then that I determined the most earnest way to pick up this duck was to demonstrate my intention, and then proceed until it rejected the idea. Before the gaze of my duckish friend, I placed my hand beneath my settled pack, and raised it, palm alone, into the air. He watched, as I had hoped, with great interest and a wagging tail. I set the bag back down, and approached my friend, who no longer retreated. Crouching before him, he uttered a simple question, which I am loathe to have not understood, but accepted my questioning palm beneath his dignified teardrop figure, and up again we came without protest.

I, for but a moment, was frozen in admiration and delight. It wasn’t terribly heavy, perhaps a pound, perhaps two, but I dared not offend it with a guess to its colorful insight. However, it was unstable upon my outstretched palm, so carefully, so carefully, I brought it towards myself and settled it under my arm, fashionably, like a handbag. There was no protest, no objection, and soon it was resting its evidently weighty mind upon my side for relief. A comforting experience, one I admittedly relished at the time.

But all things sweet and soft must eventually be replaced once more by the harsh reality. I set it aground, and it, satisfied in its curiosity, chose to return to the water, and it waddled away, step for step, side for side, perhaps not to be curious again, till the very next day.