Original article posted by Stephanie:

Last night we went to the botanical gardens to feed the ducks. I used to go to feed the ducks with my grandpa, and always loved it. But I hadn’t in so many years, I was really looking forward to it. So we went into the park and found a nice little spot next to a promising little pond. It was so quiet and beautiful. The sun was getting low in the sky and the park was mostly empty but for us, the ducks, and a few sparrows.

So we sit and get comfy, and the ducks start swimming towards us with only the hope that we’ll have something to feed them. The brave ones come onshore and are rewarded for their efforts. Soon there is a whole flock of them all around us, hoping to be fed, pecking at each other when an offense is detected. Mostly I have fun feeding the nearest out of my hand, but I also liked to throw one up in the air and watch as all their little necks stretch high, watching and waiting.

I laughed like a school girl feeding and watching. There was one little ducky, younger or at least smaller than the rest, who would dart in, take a piece from my hand, and then run for his little ducky life as the rest pecked at him. That piece devoured, he would brave his way back in to snatch another piece. He quickly became a favourite, and probably got more than the rest…but I’m sure it was well deserved. The only bad thing was is he got underfoot once when I didn’t notice and his leg was caught under my heel. Next I saw him he was limping, and I felt absolutely dreadful with guilt. He was even wobbling when he went in for a swim! Poor little ducky, you have my apologies!

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