A friend of mine has a friend named Rocky. Rocky’s a biped; Rocky’s a duck. My friend is a biped named Mary; Mary is not a duck.
Mary enjoys scooting along the canals in Phoenix, Arizona; she enjoys the scoot, the fresh air and the opportunity to acquire a clear head.
And she likes ducks.
I’m not sure if she has always liked ducks. I’m curious you see because I too like ducks. Chickens are okay. I‘ve known some chickens in my life but chickens aren’t as smart as ducks and who would ever think to name a chicken Donald or Huey, Dewey or Louie; and Rocky? No chicken could ever get along with the other chickens with a name like Rocky.
When Mary met Rocky I suspect it was rather one sided. Actually (if I got the story right), Rocky was a duckling at the time and he must have stood out from the others; at least I don’t remember Mary talking about Rocky’s diblings (that’s duck for duck sibling) by mentioning Darlene or Joey, if ya know what I mean.
I’ve asked to Mary repeat the story a coupla times which she gladly does; she even gives me updates from time to time so I’m surely getting most of this right.
I don’t know where she spotted Rocky but my brain has filled that in for me and In my mind’s eye I can very clearly see Mom and the kids waddling down the The Arizona Canal under the cottonwoods near 56th and Indian School Rd.
I think that Mary must have stopped to linger for a few minutes for she clearly fell head over heels in love with the duckies (you should see her eyes light up when she tells the story). She may not have been a duck lover before the incident but Mary is now a duck lover for life.
When Mary gets to that part of the story where Rocky is missing, that light in her eyes becomes a flash of lightning. I think the way she tells it is that on the second visit Mom was there and perhaps one of the kids but there was no Rocky.
Mary looked up and down the canal for a while, jogging this way and that and finally with a pout and a wrinkled brow returned to her living room and pondered the possibilities of a missing Rocky.
Mary is a very determined lady which is probably what drew her to Rocky in the first place for you see, she did not talk about Rocky as though she was a Mother Duck – after all Rocky had a mom. No, Mary’s eyes spoke of Rocky kinda like a brother, yeah that’s it; Rocky was a brother duck and Mary in the telling comes alive again when letting me know that Rocky was back on the third day.
She reported nothing else about brother Rock that I can recall, just that Rocky was alive and well and back with Mom and his diblings.
I think that must have been a year or so ago that these compelling events became such an attractive story; When I saw Mary on Sunday she brought me up to date; Rocky is a daddy Duck now and has ducklings of his own, One looks exactly like Rocky. The rest are decidedly Mom.