My Dad was a Mother Ducker

Most of you that know me, also know that that my Dad was my world. He was not only of the best people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, he was kind, funny, and would give anything to make those around him smile. A few years before he passed away, my dad became the proud mother of a duck, we fondly named, Mr. Quackers. Behind the house my parents lived in, a duck had laid eggs. In the springtime, you would see the little hatchlings follow their mom to the lake and jump in a few days after they hatched. This particular spring, one of the little guys was left behind. He may have just hatched late, but by the time he did, his siblings and mom had gone. My dad was doing yard work, and heard the little thing making noise in the bushes. He helped it out of its nest - and the duckling thought its mother had finally come back for it. Mr. Quackers followed my dad around the next few days, waddling behind him as if he was mom. My dad fed the little guy, made him an enclosed walking area to protect him from the dogs in the yard, and would even carry him in his shirt pocket to keep him warm. If you didn't know my dad, he seemed a bit frightening at first. His thick accent, and his dry sense of humor, would make anyone that just met him a bit intimidated. But here was this tough man, playing mom to a poor defenseless little duck. Apparently, Mr. Quackers was sick.... or one of the dogs got a hold of him one day. I don't think my dad had the heart to tell me the truth, but he was gone. Although our time with the little guy wasn't long, the memories of a little duck waddling behind my dad to his each step will always be something that makes me smile. I love this picture; it perfectly represents who my dad was. His calloused hands, from working on machines as a tool and die maker – holding this little defensless guy, who trusted him as if he was his mother.