My dad loved Wood Ducks.
Last night I remembered something that I haven't thought about in a long time. I was just a little fella, not even in school yet, and my Mom took me to feed bread to the ducks at a creek near our house. I was keeping my eyes open for a Wood Duck, as always. This time I actually saw one, hanging back in the trees, not interested in our bread like the Mallards were. He looked so majestic with his green duck mullet and red-rimmed eyes, just like in the pictures I had spent so much time studying. I was so excited, I couldn't wait to tell my dad about it. I also told him how I had seen Utah Jazz player Thurl Bailey at the mall, and how at Albertston's I found out that the animated Disney movie The Sword in the Stone was coming out on video. I hadn't even seen it but my dad was always telling me about it. That was such a great day.
Right now I'm alone at the old house, watching baseball on the big screen. If I were to glance slightly to the left I would see a large hand-carved hand-painted Wood Duck sitting on the mantle above the fireplace. If I were to glance slightly to the right I'd see a smaller but similar representation of the duck in question, sitting on top of a mostly empty bookcase. If I were to really crank my neck and twist my body around I'd see a ceramic liquor bottle holder thing sitting in a glass display case. It's an "heirloom" of sorts, shaped like a Wood Duck sitting in a hollowed out tree stump. We had an image of that particular duck engraved into the headstone, in full color no less. Looks really good, but I've only seen it once.