Duck on a WirePosted: August 6, 2016
“Is that a duck on the wire out there?” Mom asked from the dining room.
I looked across the couch at Bill, who gave me a sideways glance, shrugged and attempted to go back to his Kindle.
“Duck?” I whispered.
“Yup,” Bill whispered back, his eyes never leaving the book he was reading. “On a wire.”
“What duck?” I called out as I slowly peeled myself off the couch and stood up.
“The one out back sitting on the wire holding up the tree.”
I walked out of the Arizona Room into the dining room and stood next to her where she sat, gazing out the window. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “What wire holding up which tree?”
“The one over there,” she said, pointing toward the street. “There’s a duck sitting on the wire.”
I looked across the yard at one of our Palo Verde trees, which was propped up to prevent it from listing too much toward our neighbor’s yard. A bird was perched along the wire that held the tree to a five-foot metal stake.
“It’s a dove,” I said.
“It’s too big for a dove,” Mom argued. “I think it’s a duck.”
“Mom, I don’t think a duck could sit on a wire. They have webbed feet.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well then it might be a goose.”
“More webbed feet.”
“How about a…”
“It’s a dove,” I interrupted. “A big old fat male dove. If we get any ducks in the yard, they’ll probably be in the birdbath.”
“Oh, okay. Well if I see any swimming there, I’ll let you know.”