I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m pretty sure that the ducks really don’t trust me.
I thought I was getting somewhere when they stopped fleeing in absolute terror at the slightest inclination of my hand moving in their general direction and started scurrying in slightly damped-down fear at the slightest inclination of my hand moving in their general direction. But alas, I’m quite sure they still look at me with a profound contempt that borders on a conscious knowledge of who they are, and most importantly, who I am.
As a young slave might look learily upon his future master, so too do these ducks – those with the courage to actually make eye contact with me, and you just know those’ll be the trouble-makers…you just know it – look upon me. It’s almost a little heartbreaking.
Well, the chickens are skittish but they are so profoundly interested in food, they could hardly be bothered to think about their role in this world, let alone think.