Ducks at the Zoo

At work, I am caged.

It's not so bad, though. My cage is well-equipped for human habitation; it has food, water, a CD player, three cushioned chairs, books, and a computer with internet access. It may be rather small, but there's enough room to move around and get a minimal amount of exercise. And while sitting in a cage on display for the public for ten hours a day can be pretty boring, I usually don't mind. They pay me well enough.

But it's these ducks . . . .

(Yes, these are them.)

They come every day, the pair of them. Their shiny white feathers seem to clash with their mud-smeared beaks, but ducks apparently don't find personal grooming very interesting. What they do find interesting is me. I am the local curiosity - a short, awkward girl in a cage, playing with her spinning chair. They used to watch me from across the street, from the comfort of their little pond. Lately, though, they've changed up their routine.

"Amelia?" One of the ducks said, turning to her twin sister.

"Yes, Abigail?"

"How would you feel about getting out of the pond for a bit? A change of scenery?"

Amelia twitched her white head in excitement. "Ooh! That sounds wonderful!" Her heart sank after a moment, however, and she looked down at her leg, which was recovering from a bad limp. Hesitating, she said, "Oh, sister, it sounds like a grand idea, but I'm not sure I'm up to much traveling."

"Not to worry, Love," Abigail said, looking across the way. "We'll just visit the zoo! I never tire of watching that bizarre creature, and I'd just love to see it up close."

"Capital idea, Abigail!" Amelia said, stretching her wings. "Simply capital. Let's go!"

And thus, I have a pair of white ducks standing just outside the booth, looking in at me through the glass door and honking whenever I don't pay them enough attention.

Customers always comment on it, saying something about how lucky I am to have two adorable ducks hanging out with me. My coworkers love it, too; they offer the ducks bread and try to lure them into the booth. To them, the ducks are like pets. But I know better. WE'RE the dumb animals in this equation. I've seen the demeaning look in those eyes. I'm stuck in a cage, and they're . . . well, free as a pair of birds. I refuse to be ogled at this way.

And yet, every time I chase them off, I swear I can hear them giggling about me. Ha! We made it run! Let's do it again!