And then when I was by the pond that you're not supposed to park at to watch the birds any more, the little one by Smith Lake and the railroad crossing as you're headed down Sheep Creek from the U, there was a big crowd and all these ducks, so I stopped and this one drake came up to me and let it be known that he wanted me to pick him up and take him home.
So I did.
He was wearing a loose collar of black cable ties, not tight enough to be any sort of problem, just a distinguishing feature. Then he hacked up something. I sighed and wiped it up. This was the onset of a long and far-too-detailed rehash of everything the drake had left in his crop, mostly some goo the color of applesauce with cinnamon red-hots added, but a lot of lettuce and a few hamburgers with the works. (A drake had eaten these? Whole? WTF?) I wound up grabbing an empty kitty litter bucket and sitting there holding the drake over it. He looked appreciative.
Finally, when he was about half the size he'd started out at, he waddled off, made a far more traditional ducky mess on the floor, and attacked the salad I'd been going to eat. *sigh* Ducks, what can you say?