Duck Mate

My mechanic (well, actually my ex-mechanic-see Goody Goody Goes to Court for details) told me that ducks mate for life. This was proved via the annual arrival of a duck couple to his shop. Every year this duck couple, Howard and Lucille or something like that, arrived in April to swim in the sewage and oil (run-off from the shop) water adjacent to his shop. My ex-mechanic loves as he calls them ‘critters’. Yes, he is a carnivore and a racist, but he feels for ferrets and well, anything furry really, and thus I trust his knowledge on such things like ducks and mating. At one time he had 6 ferrets, kept them in the shop, fed them cereal and taught them tricks. I always worried that his 2-3 pack-a-day cigarette habit bothered the ferrets, made them sluggish.. Well, maybe not the one (1) left.. but perhaps the others…

I favor the duck. Always have. Before the feline fetish, my love was for the duck. Such love may have originated with a teenage trip to sea world where for the first time I connected with a ‘wild’ animal on a more visceral and intimate level. My brother may tell the story like this- We were trying to pet the stingray when somehow I became distracted by a host of ducks walking around the place (sea world). These were not your run-of-the-day mallards, but leaner, and more svelte ducks. Maybe I took out some bread I don’t recall – but this one duck .. kept following me around .. if I walked left.. it followed. If I walked fast.. it walked fast. I began to talk to the duck.. first in English and then in .. Duck. I said ' whack..' and the duck said 'whack'. And that sealed it. A little give and take , a little whack and I became a duck advocate.

As much as I hate to admit, I may have been searching for my ‘duck’, my ‘mate’ for quite some time. Such a search counters my strive for independence and autonomy—but the truth is – a life lived with no one to share it with is less of a life. I know this and have for many moons. This search has not been all out intense. I know people. .friends and relatives whose only desire/dream is to find a mate, get registered, get married… etc. I am in awe of these people. Not because I am envious, but rather because I just cannot believe that one would make that their life’s drive. I think I’m such a product of the feminist revolution that the idea of putting your greatest brain and heart power into mate-match is stupefying to me. Let me clarify -- it’s the searching of the mate not the solidifying/ cementing and the romancing which I find less than desirable. So .. maybe I have not been actively searching .. (i.e. blind dates, match.com shit. .etc.) but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that in many moments I would be hoping, hoping that is for some duck to cross my path.

I have been sharing bits and pieces, peoples and places with this Spark. It feels unusually everyday in a great way. Much of the time I want to spend my everyday with him- hear the stories, meet the friends, listen to songs, his breath, feel his warmth. Yes, it’s early in this adventure –but in moments it/he has the makings of a duck mate. I don’t know why .or maybe I do. Words and Whacks haven’t been exchanged about such, but as summer turns to fall and many move south -- there is still more terrain to cover, more stories unfinished stories to tell and many swamps to swim and maybe some sewage to swim through. But.. I have hope that he may be a spark in duck’s clothing.