As a duckling, I was obviously much more easily entertained than I am now. Back then, I had a very small TV in my bedroom, one of those TV/VCR combos, and a collection of animated movies, mainly Disney. This little setup was responsible for some of my fondest duckling-hood memories. Continue reading Movie Time as a Duckling
When I was a duckling and lived…in a certain location somewhere in the world, Mother Duck and I enjoyed visiting this one particular farm, the name of which I forgot. This farm sold a bunch of baked goods and was also home to a petting zoo. And kittens. I remember, outside the petting zoo, there were sometimes a whole bunch of kittens. They were the best part. Continue reading Don’t Pet the Emus
It was many years ago, when the Duck was just the Duckling of Indeed, that I was, in fact, more akin to a mole than a humble waterfowl. There was one winter in particular where the snow was absolutely ideal for a rather fun winter activity. Rather than build snowducks, which seemed to be beyond my artistic abilities at the time, or engage in the act of sledding, a hobby that involves far more trudging up hills than actually zipping down icy slopes, the Duck enjoyed the wintery pastime of excavation. Continue reading Tunnels in the Snow
With Halloween edging ever closer, the Duck was struck with some memories of Halloweens past, back when I was a duckling and trick or treating was still a valid option for the spookiest night of the year. There were several friends I would usually accompany while trick or treating, and since I lived in a larger neighborhood than them, they would usually visit me for the festivities. I recall my friends always sporting better costumes than me, for all I was able to obtain were the silly kinds of things Wal-Mart usually had in stock. I remember dressing as a bee and a ladybug during two of my years of Halloween-ing. Mother Duck sometimes reminds me that, when I was super young, I dressed as a pirate. So it would seem that my costumes got worse the older I got. (If only I was adept at cosplay back then, such Halloween woes…Hallo-woes…could have been avoided.) Continue reading Memories from Ducklinghood: Trick or Treating
For October, I wanted to think up some spooky topics to share with you all. And yet, and this is rather fortunate, not that many spooky things have happened in my life, meaning I had to think hard. And what I came up with were a few semi-spook-related tales that took place during the Duck’s ducklinghood. We’re verging on spook here, even if we’re not totally crossing the line.
To start off, I have never been good at telling scary stories. In recent years, I was able to write a few decently creepy Slender Man stories, but without some pretty good inspiration (and believe me, Slender Man is great inspiration for horror), I am just not well-equipped at striking fear into the hearts of my listeners. I remember one day many years back, I had a rare sleepover at my friend’s house. As night fell, we decided it would be a great time to try and tell some scary stories. Continue reading A Minor Trek into Fear with Spooky Tales and Haunted Houses
As the years pass us by, memories age and fade like old photographs. Details fall away, leaving just a small snippet here and an unclear image there to mark our progress through life. While it seems we remember less and less of our past the more years we have to look back over, there are certain memories that never go away. They are like snapshots that remain as clear as the day they happened, like anchors tying us to the past.
I spent the beginning of my life in a tiny town that shall remain nameless, and had I mentioned it, there is a good chance you wouldn’t have heard of it anyway. There was little to do there, but I did remember a few little businesses we would visit from time to time. There was a bakery where my mom would buy me a donut sometimes, and I remember always wondering what the bags of bread crumbs on the counter were for (I couldn’t imagine paying money for the leftover scraps of bread you typically throw away). There were some restaurants, such as one place that always had sugar on every table in the same way that most restaurants have salt and pepper, except this sugar came in all kinds of colors. I also remember a rather tasty Chinese restaurant that had the most beautiful screens by the entrance, adorned with elaborate birds decorated with real feathers. There was also this little store that sold some rather interesting items, like empty eggshells with cute decorations inside. We still own one that contains a little hummingbird. They also sold a phone that looked like a duck, which I liked at the time, but which seems rather silly now. (Ironic, considering I am the Duck of Indeed, after all.) Continue reading The Purple Rock
I’m surprised I’ve never written a post about this, but I was thinking of a memory that’s stuck with me all these years. It happened when I was around 11 or 12, with a friend I haven’t seen in many years. This particular memory remains one of my most favorite memories from my ducklinghood. And I think I have an idea why.
You see, I rarely went out alone as a duckling, what with all the kidnappers and ruffians and bandits out in the world, but one time, I did. Kind of. I was at my friend’s house (I can’t ask her if her name can be used in this post or not, so she’ll just remain nameless). She lived in a small neighborhood by a forest. I loved forests. (This was clearly before I watched “The Blair Witch Project”….) They were so mysterious. I asked my mom often to explore them with me, but what with all the ragamuffins and thugs and punks on the planet, she wouldn’t. So I vowed that when I grew up, I would journey through the forests myself. (But, being wiser and even more aware of the Vikings and pirates and other such nefarious scoundrels that roam the globe now, I have decided against it.) So you probably think this story is leading towards me exploring the nearby woods with my friend. Well, sort of.
It was a dark and stormy night. Actually, it wasn’t dark or night. It was, however, heading towards stormy, with grey clouds low in the sky, threatening to scoot their cloud socks on the carpet of the sky and zap us. I don’t know where my friend’s parents were. Their presence was never very obvious. Even if it was, I don’t think they would’ve minded when my friend and I decided to check out the woods. So we went outside and walked along the sidewalk a ways. We got to the grassy area by the woods. I remember a large storm drain pipe type thing, which could’ve been potentially perilous, but we stayed enough away from it. I also remember these bushes with berries on them. Maybe wild blueberries or blackberries that my friend said she liked to eat sometimes.
And then there was the forest. Oh, glorious forest. We went in, but it wasn’t long before our progress was slowed by thorn bushes. We managed to make our way around them and trek farther into the woods, but a combination of things ended up stopping us. I believe there were even more thorn bushes blocking our path, a wall of them nearly, and there were voices out in the woods. We couldn’t make out the words, but we stopped and listened nonetheless. It was here that we decided we should head back, but not before I noticed a chain link fence. I always thought it was a mysterious fence, but maybe there was nothing peculiar at all about it. I just remember that it ran in the direction we were going, and it just kept going and going as far as I could see. And I didn’t remember seeing it earlier, even though we should’ve been walking alongside it. It always brought up many questions in my mind. What was a fence doing in the middle of the woods? What did it encompass? Why did it go so far? And why didn’t I see it before? It probably seems much stranger than it really was, as I was young at the time, and years have gone by to only intensify the mystery I felt emanating from that fence. Strangely enough, I have never forgotten it and can always call it up clearly in my mind whenever I want to.
Anyway, back to the tale. We turned around and started our walk back to her house. There may’ve been thunder, but I can’t remember. We were afraid in a joking kind of way that my friend’s watch would get struck by lightning or we’d be in danger if we stayed too long by the metal Stop signs. We got back to her house, and that’s all I really remember.
So this memory has always been special to me, though all of them are, and sometimes I miss those times. I have since moved away, and I am now as separated from that place by land as the memory is separated from me by time. While I remember it clearly, it feels like it happened so long ago that it didn’t happen at all. Nevertheless, my one real trek out alone as a duckling remains my favorite memory. Nothing that peculiar ever happened in my life, so the mysteriousness of the voices out in the woods and the strange fence has always been a nice memory to reminisce over.
Duck, Brave Explorer of Forested Locations
I hated losing my baby teeth. Yes, even a duck such as myself had to deal with such a thing, even though ducks aren’t supposed to have teeth, which kind of makes me a freak of nature. Even though it’s perfectly normal, it was rather disturbing having teeth fall out. But, it wasn’t so bad at first. I remember my first tooth came out when I was eating corn on the cob. I didn’t even know what the small, hard, white thing on the plate was at first.
I greatly loosened another tooth eating a turkey leg at a Renaissance Faire. It upset me quite a bit, and I had to sit down for a while and almost passed out from the rather unnecessary stress. I don’t know why it horrified me so much, but I never ate those turkey legs again. Another tooth got loose when I was flossing, and the floss went under the tooth and pulled it out part way. My mouth bled quite a bit, and I was quite traumatized once again.
Then, I faced a new issue. Over the years, my teeth had become quite attached to me, in more ways than one. Apparently, they loved their home so much, they decided they didn’t want to leave. Yes, we had been through fantastic times together, breakfast, lunch, dinner, even snacks and desserts, but it was time we parted ways. These teeth did get loose all right, but they would hang on by a thread of something, and no amount of tugging or twisting could break the bond between me and tooth. They’d hang in there for weeks. I twisted one tooth about completely several times, but to no avail. My dad eventually had to give them a tug.
And then, my teeth became even more determined to stay in. They would not come out at all. No, they were standing their ground…er, gum this time. They decided the best way to win this war was to grow long roots. The dentist had to finally pull out about four or so, and we were shocked to see the roots on those things. I’m relieved I’m done with all of that now. Being a duckling was hard.
The Duck with Grown Up Teeth Now
And I’m not talking about motorcycles. As a duckling, I used to enjoy riding a scooter. I would zoom along the sidewalk, wind in my feathers. I used them so much, they became rather beat up. One day, when going quickly down a steep hill, I decided to stop, and good thing, too. Not long after, the scooter split in two. Just like that. Handle bars and the part you stand on decided they didn’t like each other anymore, and if they had turned on each other while I was speeding down that hill, I would have gone flying, and not the good duck kind of flying, but the kind of flying where you realize how similar your noggin is to a watermelon. And I don’t even like watermelons.
Despite my near death experience, I got a new scooter, this one lower to the ground, so it would scrape on parts of the sidewalk. It annoyed me, but I kept on, to the point where I eventually ended up falling off, scraping my knees quite badly. My mom put on Neosporin and then gauze, and you would think that would be that. But, no, my troubles weren’t over. They were really just beginning. What happened next was one of the most horrifying things that’s ever happened to me. I woke up to find my skin growing over the gauze. It was truly shocking, to say the least. So we had to use something on my knees, peroxide or something, and then had to pull the threads of gauze out one by one. Needless to say, I will never use gauze again, if I can help it. And I hope all my past scooters are rotting in a landfill somewhere.
The Duck That No Longer Scoots
I was watching an episode of “Dirty Jobs” a while ago, the one where Mike goes to a walnut…farm? Orchard? I don’t know. Anyway, I was reminded of how healthy walnuts are supposed to be, and so I, always looking for healthy foods that I can actually stand, had to go get some. At first, they weren’t as yummy as they looked, but I forced myself to keep eating them, and now they are quite scrumptious. It’s more a snack than a health food. They have a good amount of copper in them, though, which makes me wonder if I now conduct electricity better than I used to.
Now, I would normally not write a post just about food…except for the toast one, but these nummy treats reminded me of when I was a duckling, and my mom and I used to walk along this pretty road. It was a small road, part of which was surrounded by large, green trees. (You’d often find dozens of green caterpillars scattered about on it, many of which had gotten run over by cars. Poor things.) As you went, there would be a field to one side and on the other, an area with long grasses and a creek.
And I remember that there was one walnut tree growing by the road, on the side with the field. I took a nut home once and tried to make it into a tiny box like I saw in a craft book, but I had trouble keeping the two sides together and became quite cross with the disobedient nut. Nevertheless, I thought I kept it, but I haven’t seen it in years.
I have quite fond memories of that road. I actually don’t even know where it led because we never went really far on it. It’s weird what can get you thinking about the past. Here’s to walnuts! They’re healthy, possibly make you a better conductor of electricity, and may still grow on that lovely road by the creek. (Or crick, if you prefer.)