Duck Therapy

Well, what a big fat awful drag life on planet earth can be hey?

I don't know about you, but I feel crummy. What a day. End of the world pending and all I can think of is to say, "how much longer?"

Time for a happyvid.

My all time favourite Youtube video:



man! do I ever need to get some ducks!

here's a re-post:
A little known fact is that I am also a fanatical duckfan (though perhaps not quite so dedicated a one as one of our readers).

Actually, the thing I like best about ducks is how lovely and soft they look. It always gives me a tremendous urge to pick them up and pet them.

I grew up in a town that has a lot of ducks and is rather infatuated with them. Victoria is a duck town. When I was a kid, my mother used to drive me to school and we always took the route through the park. Early in the morning, the ducks would all be sitting in a huge flock in the middle of the ring road, sunning themselves. We would drive up to them and stop, neither party really interested in going anywhere. Mum and I would get a moment to drink our tea (which we nearly always needed to take along with us, being both chronically late people in the mornings) listen to the radio and look at the ducks. The ducks usually took no notice of us. After a few minutes they would, at some telepathic duck-signal, all amble off together to the pond for their early morning bathe and we, having finished our tea, would go off to school.

Going to the park to feed the ducks was a major feature of my childhood and we always kept a bag of bread ends in the freezer for the purpose.

For the first year I lived in Halifax, I was terribly ill, and therefore terribly bored and frustrated. I couldn't do much and tired very easily. When all that brought me down, I would go to the Halifax Public Gardens and watch the ducks. They have antics. Duck antics are probably the most cheering things you can watch; they make you laugh out loud.