Dec. 16th, 2003

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My favorite spot in my park is a small bridge over a creek. I love bridges, and the view to the south is of a marshy pond where ducks, geese and my dear friend The Last Heron hang out. The west end of the bridge is flanked by two big evergreen cedars; there's only one at the east end.

Today I approached the bridge from the west end, quietly, since I was walking alone. I stepped between the cedars, onto the bridge, turned to my right to admire the pond.... and found myself face to face with two low-flying mallards who were planning to fly over the bridge, just above the handrails, to get to the river. If I had flung my hands out, I could have touched them. As it is, I flinched and backed, and the birds changed course, backwinging frantically, especially the male. I was chuckling as I walked on, and I suspect the female mallard was, too.

457 miles down, 1 to go... are those the gates of Rivendell I see ahead?






Okay, if you must respond with a pair'o'ducks/paradox pun, at least try to be orginal? Please?

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