No, it’s not the end but the real end is less satisfying. Most came back, but he penned them in his back yard only to have the quackers waddle under the gate never to be seen again. A plaintive figure he was, walking the streets calling his ducks. Not unlike Schreiber sitting in his chair, bundled against the cold wind, wondering if it was too late to make new friends.
So they became wild things again. How is that not satisfying … ? The plaintive figure, yes, but he got to see them one more time, and that’s a multi-faceted inquiry anyway.
Such a lovely idyll! Has anyone seen my ducks?
Let’s have a closer look, nearer to where we liberated them…
nope, still no ducks.
How do we revisit the story of FierceBaby’s ducklings?
Hear, hear.
Starts here and ends here.
IS that truly the end? You never heard whether they ever came “home” again? I can easily imagine you’d never simply ask …
No, it’s not the end but the real end is less satisfying. Most came back, but he penned them in his back yard only to have the quackers waddle under the gate never to be seen again. A plaintive figure he was, walking the streets calling his ducks. Not unlike Schreiber sitting in his chair, bundled against the cold wind, wondering if it was too late to make new friends.
So they became wild things again. How is that not satisfying … ? The plaintive figure, yes, but he got to see them one more time, and that’s a multi-faceted inquiry anyway.