The Highway Less Traveled

This morning, chaos descended on our backyard as a flock of ducks—whistling with the enthusiasm of a thousand tiny football referees (or, more accurately, about 40)—invaded what remains of our grass after the long drought.

Our neighbor, peeking through the blinds, quickly informed us: "There's a whole army of 'em ducks back there!" Sure enough, chaos erupted by the feeders. It started with one scout—a lone duck who was strutting with the swagger of a singing Mick Jagger. Soon after that, the reinforcements arrived.

Within minutes of sunrise, they had established full occupation, scattering cracked corn with reckless abandon and blatantly ignoring the No Ducks Allowed sign. Speaking of which, another trip to TSC is clearly in order—these birds are becoming full-blown cracked corn junkies (forgive the corny humor).

Oh no, 40 ducks on crack! What have we done?