Can someone translate their quacks for me?
By ALLISON KELEHER — adkeleher@ucdavis.edu
The ducks are out and about on the UC Davis campus, and you best believe I have noticed. Those little guys can’t hide from me. I love seeing them walk around on the Mrak Hall lawn whenever I head to the library. Once, I followed some around and quacked at them so I could join in on the fun.
But lately, I feel like the vibes are off. Some have started chasing me in retaliation to my antics, and I don’t know how to feel about it. Are we building a friendly repertoire? Or is there something more conniving under those feathers?
To find out, I decided to investigate. I bought a duck costume on Amazon and it promptly arrived within two days. When I got the notification that my costume arrived, I ripped open the package and slipped into that bad boy. What followed was some very serious investigation as I attempted to infiltrate their circle in the Arboretum.
The ducks were so chill when I found them — they were all sitting politely in a circle. A couple of them were sleeping and had their beaks tucked underneath their feathers. I calmly and quietly took a seat on the grass to join the circle. Apparently, I wasn’t slick because all of the ducks stood at attention. I instantly became very aware that I was wearing a duck costume and thought that, perhaps, I wasn’t wanted.
I was feeling stressed until one of the ducks got up and started waddling around the circle as fast as he could. My first thought was that this was a mating dance. Then, I realized that it couldn’t be because there’s no way a duck would choose someone wearing a duck costume. As I was deep in thought over my potential suitor, the duck pecked me with its bill, and I was worried that a mating dance might actually be happening. Did he peck me, or did he pick me?
In an instant, the duck took off around the circle with amazing speed. The remaining ducks began quacking incessantly, and I started to wonder if they were entertained by what had just happened. I looked around in confusion, but the ducks just kept quacking at me. The duck that had pecked me continued to waddle his way around the circle, but he was losing steam. He fully made his way around the circle and looked really annoyed when I was still sitting down. Then he pecked me again.
That was when I had an epiphany. I had trained for this my entire life — a real-life game of “duck, duck, goose.” I was ecstatic; This was my moment to shine. I can clearly run much faster than these little birds, and I needed a win. I jumped into the air and took off after the duck. He already had a head start on me because I took too long to figure out what game we were playing. Then it felt like time had stopped — I tripped over my duck costume and face-planted on the floor. I was so embarrassed. All of my new friends just saw me at my lowest moment.
When I rose from the ground, I wiped the mud off my face and tried to stand up. However, I didn’t make it — I tripped again on my costume. I couldn’t show my face again, but I could hear their ridiculing quacks in the background.
By the time I finally got up on my feet, I looked over and the duck was already in my spot. I lost. My ego was shattered. I tried to look on the bright side, now I was finally given the opportunity to be a duck. That was until a duck made me sit down so they could play. The duck waddled around the circle with a big smile on its bill. Once he made it around, he pecked me to be the goose again.
When I got up this time, I didn’t trip over my costume and was able to run and tag the duck. I confidently took my seat with my fellow ducks since I was one of them now. That was until the duck pecked me to be the goose again.
This cycle continued for hours, and it made me feel really bad about myself. Maybe I wasn’t a duck like I thought I was. I decided it was time to get up and leave the ducks alone. As I walked away, I could hear their quacking fade into the distance.
They were laughing at me — I just know it.
Written by: Allison Keleher — adkeleher@ucdavis.edu
Disclaimer: (This article is humor and/or satire, and its content is purely fictional. The story and the names of “sources” are fictionalized.)
