The Ducks of Alton Baker Park

You can't go to Alton Baker Park to feed the ducks and not enjoy yourself. There are always enough ducks to go around, so you'll never be disappointed with the turnout (one large piece of bread thrown out into unoccupied region of the water will attract half of the pond). Massive geese come running, honking with an alarming urgency. Ducklings peck and scurry between the feet of the greedy ducks, and provide entertainment when you run out of bread as they bob and putter about, catching insects who hover over the surface of the water. The fierceness of competiton for food has emboldened many ducks and geese, many of whom will eat out of your hand. Geese bully and hiss at eachother; ducks, who seem normally a peaceful lot, will chase after one another and yank out a couple of tailfeathers in violent assertions of the pecking order, though these are eclipsed by the epic goose fights. I've even seen a goose driven to eating dirt for no reason, who then looked displeased and upset when it doesn't taste good. There's plenty of abnormal behavior in this community -- and abnormal animals.

Groups of slack-jawed spectators gawk with mingled puzzlement and horror at the freak of nature

Blackie showcases his striking plumage and tottering gait

Blackie reveals his skin to be roughly the consistency of ground beef

And that's the real reason I have devoted a whole page to duck feeding: Blackie, one of the strangest... fowls I have ever seen. I'm pretty sure he's a duck. It would help if he quacked, but when he opens his beak, all he can do is produce a wheezy hiss. He wags his tail when he is excited, and is unafraid of both people and dogs. One excitable dog got within just a few feet of him, and he stood his ground, either out of stoic poise or crippling stupidity -- I couldn't tell you. He's got a bizarre leathery, bubbly face that makes him look like more of a turkey or a chicken than a duck, and the redness extends down through his neck, showing only through the mangy spots of his thinning neck feathers. When he walks, he bobs his head in an undulating motion, bringing to mind pigeons that can't walk without thrusting their head as if it were a propulsion mechanism.

Blackie is not easily stirred, from his refuge on the island in the middle of the pond, gazing out at the other ducks squabbling for breadcrumbs. He seems alert, because his head bobs up and down as he watches them, as if he wanted to participate, or at least affect the outcome. I tried to draw him out by hurling bread in his direction, but he has some sort of internal mechanism that decides when he leaves the island and mixes with the rest of the rabble. When he finally chose to come over, we fed him initially, then he wandered off disinterestedly, fulfilling whatever purpose it is that he has been placed upon this earth for. He eventually wandered back to us and rasped for food as he stood behind the bench. As we fed him, I took this most disturbing picture. I invite you to click on the image for a the detail and tell me exactly what this picture means. Is he an apparition? Can he turn invisible? Does he exist in a state of interdimensional flux? I wouldn't put any of these qualities beyond him.