Sunday, June 5, 2011

Of displaced ducks and killer cats

You never know what a morning walk with the dog will bring in my neighborhood.

Case in point: Last Friday.

On Mondays and Fridays, Ben and I usually take a long lap through the 'hood, checking out who's doing what to their homes -- as well as who SHOULD be doing what.

We were a couple blocks into our stroll, when off in the distance we could hear a very emphatic "WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK!"

What the duck?? We don't have ducks in our neighborhood. A few folks keep chickens. And we've encountered deer, hawks, eagles, heron, turkeys, raccoons and a porcupine (in a tree) on our walks, but ducks? They much prefer the lovely ponds at nearby Manito and Cannon Hill parks.


This was one agitated duck. Obviously not in pain or distress, but very seriously INCONVENIENCED. We marched on and then we saw

a duck on a roof.

Now, I don't know about you, but ducks don't exactly leap to the forefront as perching birds.

The ducks I'm familiar with are generally attached firmly to terra firma, paddling lazily in little inlets along the river or waddling along the shoreline foraging grass. So a duck on a roof -- in the middle of my neighborhood -- well, it kind of grabbed my attention.


It was clear we had reached the center of duck-ly distress. Duck on the Roof -- a mallard drake -- was standing sentinel while his Lady Love was trying to (noisily) extricate herself from whatever she had gotten herself into in the neighbor's backyard.


To my total amazement, considering the racket this singular duck was making, not one singular human being was in sight.


Ben and I strolled down the alley, along the fence line, to see if we could be of assistance. No such luck. The Missus was one stuck duck. So, with much regret, Ben and I departed, wishing our fine feathered friends all the best



You're wondering about that killer cat, aren't you? Well, first let me share one morning walk observation about the cats in our neighborhood: They fall into one of two categories when they see Ben coming:

1. Theytake one look at him, freeze momentarily, then furtively slink off into the bushes. (Ben is usually blissfully oblivious to this.)

And then there's This Guy:

2. He who coolly stares Ben up and down, assessing the situation with deliberate feline calculation. And the conclusion?

"Hello, Houston? Complete canine wuss at 2 0'clock. Activating stalk-the-dog death ray! I'm going in."

This black fellow was one such cat. He laser-locked on Ben faster than you could say "Killer cat," slowly and deliberately moving toward him, oozing with centuries of dog-cat enmity. I think Ben set a new personal best for back pedaling.

And I unfortunately was unable to pictorially document any of this.

It's hard to take pictures when you're being used as a human shield.


  1. yeeesh! what a cat! most definitely related to our hunting moggies of Balmain. not being a wuss, Georgia would sort it out [or get scratched trying].

    you are the first person i've ever known who says a duck wacks :)

  2. (I am way behind om my reading, so decided to start with the most recent and work backward.)

    "oozing with centuries of dog-cat enmity" - love this! I think I would like this kitty, too. ;) (But not if it looked at me like this.)

    I hope the duck got out of her mess. :(