clusterduck

After several months of introspection I’m still not sure why I acted the way I did—or, rather, why I failed to act—upon witnessing the following scene a few blocks from my home:


I stood by and watched as four male ducks had their way with one unwilling female. It was a gang rape. A clusterduck.

A fowl scene, indeed.

Why did I do nothing? How do I justify my inaction?

Did I feel outnumbered? Was I scared of a vicious pecking? Did I fail to act because they’re from a different neighborhood, or because they’re from a different socio-economic class (or is that socio-economic phylum)? Was I complacent because they’re migrants (who can pick my vegetables but are otherwise invisible to me)? Did I blame her for being so provocatively dressed, wearing nothing but feathers? Was I afraid of being laughed at if I’d said, “Hey, you, get down from that duck”?

I spoke to my psychiatrist about this, but he didn’t see a problem. He’s a quack.


Next week: Make way for bastard, raised-by-single-mother ducklings.