Goodbye, Dear Friend

 

Though I spend much of my time alone here in the village--with the kids at school and Mr. Lush at work, I do find time to forge quality friendships with the locals. Let me introduce you to a few of my dearest feathered friends--and frequent visitors to das Haus Eurolush.

Isn't she adorable?

She's beloved by those two in the feather suits with the green heads. They worship her. They accommodate her every whim. They follow her all over the village, like two lovesick puppies.

  Is it strange to feel love for wild ducks? 

No.

Not when those very same ducks come to your door each day and quack, like friendly, chatty neighbors stopping by for a cup of tea--only in their case it's for a bit of bread and a bowl of water. They have simple tastes.

Not when they have a sparkle in their eyes, and the sweetest of duck smiles on their bills. 

My three feathered friends have taken to sleeping in the sunlight on the front porch. More than once I've opened the front door and nearly tripped over them, as they slept soundly, with their heads tucked under their wings.

 Some people have decorative lions on their front stoops. We have live ducks.

Sad update: Last night one of the males was run over on the road through town. My neighbor stopped by to tell me this morning. It made me weepy...like losing a friend. What does it say about me that I am grieving for a wild duck? Don't answer that.

I will miss hearing the sound of his webbed feet slapping the ground, as he waddled over for a visit. I will miss the small, happy noises and whistles he made, as he ate little bits of bread from my hand. I will miss seeing him from my kitchen window, nesting in the grass across the road with his lady, whispering sweet nothings in her tiny ears.

Sigh.

Today will be the first day he will not be coming for a visit.

I am sad.

 

But life goes on.

  

There are walks through the village,

 

and gardens to admire.

  

There are familiar facades and roses.

 

There are the flower boxes, newly installed, and already brightening the road through the village with cheerful color.

 

You can't help but feel that even in loss and sadness, there is beauty.

 

It's a comfort.

 

 

Neighborhood Friends from Eurolush on Vimeo.

Comments

[Tuli]

I am sad with you on the loss of your ducky pal. I hope the other two do OK without him.

Thanks for the video. What a great thing - to have ducks come to your door for a bit of bread and water.

[kmkat]

I shall grieve for the duck I never met. But I shall rejoice that the other two are happily eating dampened cinnamon bread on your doorstep and probably making baby ducks.

[Alice C]

I am thinking it was a cunning plan - does the other male duck look pleased with himself? Or does he have an alibi?

[robiewankenobie]

want. duck. doorstep.

[Miz S]

Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Poor little guy. I mourn with you.

[Badger]

Dude. You are BUMMING ME OUT.

I am singing "Seasons in the Sun" while wearing a cheery yellow sundress, with a wreath of flowers in my hair. And one sad little duck feather tucked behind my ear.

[Green Girl in Wisconsin]

Sorry for your loss.

[Paola]

They are adorable!
Sorry for the loss.

[alex]

I think I'm with Alice C on this one. Also robiewankenobie. Gah! See?? This is why I hardly ever comment! You're smart blog-buddies beat me to it!

[Val]

Nothing wrong with being weepy for a lost duck. We are kindred spirits when it comes to losing a creature friend.

[The Coffee Lady]

Aw. That is sad.

It must be nice to be able to feed ducks without a swarm of greedy seagulls swooping in. Living near the sea can be a problem.

[Jen]

Squee! You look like Snow White feeding the the little creatures of the forest.