In today's session of And Now You Write I shared of my moments at Hart Park, a regional park not far from my home. I took myself there because although I attempted to write at home, I realized sometimes the best thing to do is switch up what we are doing and begin to write from someplace new.
I shared some of the story at the And Now You Write blog, but here is the missing excerpt from my sketch pad. I found it a lot of fun and thought I would offer it up to you, here.
I heard a duck sounding like a children's toy.
Not a quack, but something else. And then a gutteral grgrgrgrgrpip
The wood ducks noticed and came along, hautily, and swam in the way of these other, visiting country ducks and sang out the very quintessential duck "Quack quack quack quack!" The mallard joined in, pontificating "Quack quack QUACK!" which I think means something like "I am top duck, go make your grgrgrgrgrgrpip on some other pond."
The winter visiting country ducks pitch raises when they skitter-fly across the water, like Xena's shout changes when she gets excited and mobile.
I look at my attempt to draw the country-visitor-duck and I think Emily Dickinson would be so annoyed by me, so disappointed in my result.
The ugly ducks sound like a nerd choir, or a second, third or fourth string choir. The wood-duck-in-charge hates this and bellows at the country duck, "Shut up your choir, Jethro!"
Unlike the ugly duckling who grows into being a beautiful swan, these Jethro ducks are simply Jethro ducks. They are what they are, there is no changing the facts. I have seen them come to this pond and live here each fall and winter, year in and year out.
There will be no story of transformation from ugly Jethro to beautiful swan.
These ducks have been ugly Jethro and they will continue to be ugly Jethro.
Poor ugly Jethro ducks. As the saying goes, sometimes an ugly duck is just an ugly duck.
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