A Box of Matches
The woodpile quickly became an object of fascination for the duck. She roots in between the logs and bangs at the bark with her beak until some breaks off, to see if there are bugs underneath. Now that everything is frozen, there is much less for her to eat there, but once in the fall I lifted a bottom log for her and she found an ant colony and several words which she consumed with much lusty beak smacking. She is a dirty eater. She snuffles in mud and grass and then goes over to the plastic wading pool that we set up for her and drinks from it, and streams of dirt flow from her beak and she scoops up the water. When she has found a patch of wet earth or weeds that particularly pleases, she makes a whimpering sound of happiness, as a piglet would at the udder. I had no idea that ducks were capable of such noises. In coloration she resembles a tabby cat.
The other day I pried up a log from the stiff ground and turned it over so that Greta (that's the duck's name) could have a once-over on it before I brought it inside. It's not just that I want to give her a treat; it's also that I don't want to be bringing termites or strange larvae into the house. She rooted all over the exposed underside, as if she were Teletyping a wire-service story on it. Finally she located hidden in the crevice, a brown thing that excited her. She was able to pry it out: it was a frozen slug. Its slime had grown ice crystals, giving it as kind of fur. I couldn't tell if it was hibernating or dead. The duck tumbled it around in her beak and tossed it into the water (whose icy edges she'd broken earlier), and eventually much of it went down her gullet. She bobs her head to work things down into the lower part of her neck, and I supposed her gizzard goes to work on them there.
This small book by Nicholson Baker was a recommendation by the New York Times Book Review. Amazon reviews were varying but I got into it as soon as I started reading it. It was a very quick read and quite pleasant. I would recommend it. |
