Recently I came across a piece of research about the perils of desk dwelling, which resulted in some heart palpitating pondering on my part.
According to Mark Hamilton from the University of Missouri, people who sit at their desk all day long, only to go home and plonk themselves down on the sofa all night, are subjecting themselves to health risks as insidious as smoking, or over exposure to the sun….evidently.
 |
| thanks madmcmojo |
Great, so why have I been bothering with lentil salads and carob chocolate for all these years, then? Clearly I was stuffed.
Ignoring my flashing laptop screen for a moment, I contemplated a quick trip to the shops, to stock up on a bottle of wine, a bucket of fast food and a packet of Winfield Blue (do they even make them anyone?), before taking the whole lot out into the backyard, and stripping off under the glare of the midday sun. Well why not?
Just as the thought was cementing in my head, I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye, two dark shapes approaching at speed.
Sailing in, heads back, backsides dropped, leaning back, their feet set in an upward right angle position, they skimmed across the previously stagnant surface of my backyard pool. Like two MiG fighter jets landing on an aircraft carrier, they touched down at one end of the pool, then careered along the surface until they nearly ran out of water at the other end. The scourge of backyard pool owners everywhere – the duck, or ducks on this occasion.
 |
| thanks madmcmojo |
For those of you not in the know, ducks have a number of specialties. Their ability to appear graceful while inwardly panicking, has been well documented over the years. However a lesser known skill is their ability to generate an enormous amount of squelchy, colour removing, poo in a matter of seconds. Maybe it’s all the pond scum they eat I don’t know.
And so the battle began.
Moments after the ducks descend, I’m on my feet, sprinting out the back door flapping my arms about in the air, reminiscent of Steve Martins character in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels screaming , Oklahoma, Oklahoma, Oklahoma . Understandably the ducks immediately hightailed it over the side fence, quacking a belligerent farewell, before splashing down in my neighbours pool.
Panting, but back at my desk I was left to ponder on…
-
In an hours time, as we three meet again to perform the same ritual, I think I’ll let them linger a little longer this time. After all if it wasn’t for their hourly distraction, I’d be a prime candidate to prove Mr Hamilton’s theory correct. Besides if truth be known I’m actually quite jealous of the fun they seem to have skimming over the waters surface.
-
Are ducks feet called feet? I know chickens have feet, I’ve seen it written on a Yum cha menu, but what of ducks?
-
Has anyone else got any suggestions? and yes I’ve already tried intimidation in the form of a casserole dish, a bag of oranges and the MasterChef theme playing on loop.
2 Comments
To be honest I’m feeling a bit jealous that no ducks have ever tried to land in our pool. Ours is obviously not good enough 🙁
I wish I knew your secret Amanda. Trust me you are better off