City Slickers to Country Diggers: If You Love Them, Set Them Free

It is with bittersweetness that I write this. Tonight, at 6:42 p.m., Jack and I set our two ducks-that-we-thought-were-geese-but-discovered-that-they-really-are-ducks free at Atascadero Lake Park. Just like the bible and that one pop song by Sting advise, if you love somebody, set them free. And so we did. They are now old enough to fly with impressive force into our dogs' faces, so we figured they can hold their own against a few disgruntled geese or the lake's local gang of Mallards (just because they are better looking than the our red wort-faced ducks doesn't give them the right to be a bunch of jerks). We tricked them into a cardboard box, which was surprisingly difficult given our combined strength, intelligence and agility, threw some food pellets in, taped it up, and drove them to their new home.
It was like dropping your kid off at kindergarten for the first time. Jack prepared to rip open the box mere feet away from the lake shore, and I was all nervous and giddy with camera ready in hand. He said, "Are you ready?" and I nodded excitedly from behind the lens. He torn off the tape, threw open the doors and stepped back like a proud papa as I readied to capture their first enraptured reactions to their new waterfront home (up to this point in their lives, the only lake they have ever known is the 3x5 hole I personally dug in the ground, and which they have refused to swim in even once, the ingrates). Three seconds passed, then five, then ten, and still no one came out of the box. At first I was scared that the taped in ride over gave them both heart attacks, until Jack, as any good father would, kicked the box. Slowly the little female walked out, followed (after another swift kick) by her brother/lover/partner/only friend on the lake. And let me tell you, they were not enraptured in the least. We had to chase them towards the lake, and then Jack picked up the female and literally set her in the water, which she flew out of the second he let her go. This was not the "setting free" photo op I was hoping for. We sat down and watched over them for about 15 minutes, but in that whole time all they did was stand there and stare at the water suspiciously. And to top it all off, when we wished them luck, said goodbye and gave them our sage advice to not be sitting ducks (since that was all they were doing), they didn't even look at us! Not even a sideways glance as they waddled away.

In the end, even though they were totally thankless, we bear no hard feelings. Are we disappointed in them? Certainly. Did we expect more from those we raised since they were the size of yellow rubber duckies? You betcha. But do we hold it against them? Not for one second. After all, as every parent knows, "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

P.S. As I write this, the fermentation fumes are making their way into our trailer. Effing bastards.