Lazarow World-Hike-About: 48.08 Ducks...Jenni's Ducks on the trails.

We experience a little tension between us every now and again, often because of ducks. Ducks! You might exclaim, but it’s true. ‘How could that be?’ It’s a reasonable question. I’ll try to explain but fear it might be difficult. You should know upfront that Jenni has defined all forms of birdlife as ducks. Should you be able to grasp the concept then you’ve made a leap forward without getting into much of a flap. You should know that Jen probably gets a bit upset with me when I inform her in the sweetest manner that her assertions of birds are not based on any scientific parameters but rather that she wings it.

I think she believes all flying creatures belong to the same species and therefore a generic description will do. Ducks. Admittedly, my fascination with shooting the flying fellows, with a camera of course, may be the reason she acts as she does. Just the other day, I was trying to figure something out. I often think deeply of irrelevant issues and she wonders whether my brain is shaped like a spreadsheet. When I consider it, gentle Jenni has quite a lot of issues with my nature besides those of real nature. “Honey,” she says all innocently, “Have you got all your ducks in a row?” What’s that got to do with my Excel spreadsheet or more precisely, the layout of my brain. I think she’s teasing me but I’m never sure where ducks fit into the picture or maybe, spreadsheet.

The other day, we were racing down a mountain trail. Okay, we were walking fast. I mentioned that I was particularly hungry. “What are you making for dinner, my Girl?” I asked. I love her cooking and the way she tries to make my favorites so often, especially the frozen vegetables, particularly when she remembers to warm them. She had the audacity to shout at me: “Duck.” What vegetarian eats meat or birds, I ask you? Then I got whacked on the head by a low hanging branch.

She really had me going when she explained the religious angle of birds. I thought she had lost it completely. She pointed out an Osprey that was roaring vertically toward the water surface at great speed. It truly was a sight to behold. Then it plucked a fish from the water at which stage I rather cleverly added (an occasional talent) that ‘it looked like a fish out of water’.

“You see,” she explained, “that’s a bird of prey.”

Dinner up the pole. 'Not fish again!' "Yes. But at least you have power. You can grill or fry it."

I looked at her all squirrelly. The girl’s lost it.

“Pray, my foot. That’s a cold-bloodied killer. It has not an ounce of compassion spread between those wings or anywhere else for that matter.”

I was so peeved at this ridiculous assertion that I had to add, “Should anyone be praying and receiving mercy, it’s the poor fish.”

Lately, I’ve been practicing sitting on my haunches. It’s not that easy and also takes a lot of energy and strong knees to raise oneself without the assistance of hands. There’s method in my madness. You see, there are places where they have Western toilets together with local versions (Nepal, Peru, et al). However, outside cities, there are a number of places of accommodation that provide the local form of lavatory also known as a hole in the ground, sometimes covered but of course, without a commode.

It’s at those times, previous exercise referred to above, is most useful. As an aside, I have also noticed, through lack of practice over the ages, it is more difficult to get low on the haunches and at the same time have the feet spread apart a reasonable distance. Jenni does it with ease and surprisingly; after all, she is many months older than me. Of course, as one ages, one realizes the commode is one of man's greatest inventions despite the electronic gadgets that engage so many people these days. (Strangely enough, one still cannot ask Alexa to relieve oneself.)

Anyway, I was sitting on my haunches and I could see the little smile creasing her lovely face. Note it was a crease and not a wrinkle. We do not use words like wrinkle any longer. Like the haunch business, I think it also has something to do with age. Anyway, there I am sitting on my haunches experiencing what could be termed 'a dry run' when she says to me: "You look like a sitting duck."

"EYES LEFT and ONE RIGHT". Showing respect to the Duck dislike(r).

Duck attack! Has Jenni's attitude to ducks influenced Ellie? (Ellie is now approaching 12 years: Gaga is a little older.)

You have to wonder if she thinks about anything but ducks. And she has the chutzpah to say 'I'm crazy about birds'. Actually, that's not a statement for which I'd offer an argument. Birds are a wonderful species and having just returned from Utah, one gets a better understanding of the mind of the Mormon male.

There are birds (ducks) which we agree are out of favor, especially from my perspective. Crows. I don't like them particularly, but that may be more a function of the symbolism they represent. Also, we do not find them attractive. Better to provide some examples or reasons for these comments than prejudicial statements. After all, 'C(rows)L(ives)M(atter)' and all that hot potato stuff.

My first real experience, which we mentioned many years ago, is when we were hiking down a mountain. Jenni had recently purchased a basic GPS. I remember now. We were in Flagstaff and returning from the peak of Kendrick, a moderate, to tough at times, climb and return. I was beginning to tire and asked for a reading from the gadget.

"Two miles," came the reply from our newly self-appointed navigator. Ten minutes later, still feeling under the weather, I repeated the question. I also wanted to make Jen feel important in her new role. From time-to-time, I'll be generous in spirit, although she disagrees.

"2.5 miles," she exclaimed.

"But ten minutes ago you said it was a lesser distance," I retorted. "We must have walked another half-mile in the meantime." And that's when she began to explain the concept of 'as the crow flies'. Frankly, it's irrelevant to me the route crows take. We have to stay on the trail for a number of reasons, one being that we don't fly, swim across rivers and oceans and such like. Therefore, I have not the slightest interest in the flight path of a bird, particularly an ugly one.

Thereafter, we visited South Africa and arrived at a national park, Giants Castle. In the parking lot, a sign greeted visitors with the wording 'Cover your wiper blades because the crows have a fetish' meaning they will take your rubbers. We were quite shocked. At first, we had no idea why crows would use condoms. We also could not follow the logic. Surely people would keep condoms inside the car. But this was South Africa...what do we know?

Secondly, we were against discussing our intimate life with the park attendant who came forward to welcome us and provide guidance.

In retrospect, following my negative feeling for the birds, I realized providing condoms to crows would be an ideal method of controlling the population of that species. It dawned upon me that perhaps South Africans aren't as dumb as they seem. Anyway, we have summarized what we wrote at the time...we were much younger then and our brains functioned more clearly.

We've heard of fetishes but this takes the rubber...um...cake.

Fortunately, on each visit to the park we have managed to conceal our rubbers safely.

Could an animal rights extremist group try rid cars of windscreen wipers?

With crows' ingestion of rubber: Will it affect those who 'eat crow' or how 'the crow flies'?

Are there implications for the condom industry?

We don't know.

In Tucson, along this road, crows may be observed in training. It's well-known locally: 'As crows fly.' (Picture taken on Soldier trail in Coronado National Forest, a hike that is simply, superb.)