Saturday, April 1

Randy bastards ...


A fellow blogger waxed lyrical about a book she found about a duck that became president of the excited states of america. This led to my reminiscing about ducks and their quirky ways and particularly the ducks of my childhood.
George was a splendid Mallard, he was the alpha duck at our place and with that came certain rights, rather like the lord of the manor in Medieval times. George had the freedom to rape the girl ducks, the boy ducks, the chickens, the roosters and the shoe of any person who wandered in to feed them. Filthy beast. But not as filthy as the duck who partook in homosexual necrophilic rape.
I read an article years ago (googled it and found it again) about a Mallard who flew into a window in Rotterdam, killing him. The kicker is another drake Mallard came along and raped the corpse for about 75 minutes. As the building the duck flew into was a museum, a boffin, Kees Moeliker, grabbed the dead duck, checked it was indeed a boy and concluded the Mallards had taken part in an ‘Attempted Rape Flight’ that ended rather more badly than usual. Apparently rape is a normal reproductive strategy in Mallards, not so nice duckies.
NO - this is not a Poisson d'Avril joke folks. Here's a lovely fish anyhoo.


caw said...

Oh my stars. I didn't know Mallards were such randy buggers. That is truly shocking!

I shall make every effort not to sit alone in the park surrounded by ducks with nothing more than an egg & lettuce sandwich to protect me. Who knows what sticky end might befall me should they mistake me for a dead person.

I remember Fup the Duck. He was very cute in those cute ducky duck books. That's how I remember ducks. As being cute, fluffy, dopey little things. All soft and feathery. Not as perpetrators of angry duck violence!

Ms Brown Mouse said...

It's your feet they're after, the ankle coming up from the foot is (to a randy drake hyped up on testosterone, slightly lady duck shaped!
Hey, let's be careful out there, quack.