It was like a comedy routine. I shouted “duck!”, frantically pointing out of the window as if a missile of some kind was hurtling toward the house. Before those within earshot adopted the brace position, they paused to check what I was gesticulating at. And, looking every bit as if they were in on the joke, two ducks came waddling up the lawn.
There’s something about ducks that always raises a smile. Their bowling-pin shape, their forced-laughter quacking, their swaying-speed-walker gait. It is hard to take them seriously.
