Duck Duck Goose

Leaving my house the other day, I was held up on our street by a mosy-ing duck. A duck we call "Grandpa" because he's a big guy. And a slow guy. Yep, he's big, slow and ugly. 'Grandpa' fits him well.




As Grandpa mosied across the street, I noticed that he was actually following a brood of other ducks. And ducklets.




See them there? On the lawn. That's Ma and her brood. This is just two doors down from our house.




Grandpa is a good boy. But he didn't like me. He stood guard until I had driven on by. And left he and his precious brood alone. And boy, if looks could kill...

Grandpa's not really as old as he looks. If that's his bride and those are all his kids... well, 'Grandpa' is either the complete wrong name for him... or he's got a lot of moxy left in him!!

Go, Grandpa!

And go, Kris. Grandpa is just not happy with you staring at his young chicks.
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