If I had webbed feet - I could stand on a rotted log and see my own reflection in the water. I could see the blue pond shimmer in the sunlight. I could easily get lunch with my rounded beak by scooping up bugs floating on the water's surface. I would already be formally dressed for dinner every evening. Life as a duck might be cool and lovely.
If I lived in the wetland neighborhood -
My family and I would worry that development would force me out of my home. My streets and channels would be drained. Nearby workplaces and my food supplies would be moved further out, so that I would have a very long commute to get to where I needed to be able to support my family. Life as a duck might be outmoded in these modern times.
If I were a target for someone -
I would need reeds and grass for a hiding place during hunting season. I would be the subject of duck stamp artistic competitions. If I were killed I might be carried intact, except for implanted birdshot, to the shooter's feet by a beautiful "soft-mouthed" sporting dog. Life as a duck might be a risky existence.
Tags: wetlands
My topical post today at South by Southwest is about the insurgency in Iraq.
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