Duck a la Jalapeño

Ducks like jalapeño potato chips. Well, at least the ones that own Gee Lake, the man-made effort that’s contained on one side by the Performing Arts Center on the campus of Texas A&M University-Commerce.

I discovered this little-known fact on a fresh, sunny day last week. Ink blue skies and no clouds in sight. Ground soggy and rich. It was spring time before spring. And students and ducks alike were wandering out to enjoy this early gift.

James picked me up for lunch. We made a quick stop at a nearby candle shop where we bought homemade jar candles labeled Twigs & Berries, Apples & Oak, Orange Clove and Satin Sheets. I opened the jar of Satin Sheets and offered James a sniff.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” he said.

“It smells just like you,” I whispered in his ear.

“How do you keep your hands off me,” he answered drawing me to him with his hand on the small of my back.

We flirt well and often. I like that. I need that.

We picked up some Subway sandwiches and chips, then headed for the lake. This was an unplanned venture, so we were without the normal picnic provisions. No soft, worn wool blanket. So we spread out our jackets on the ground in a soft spot in the grass close to a young tree tired of holding back its buds of white blossoms.

Before we had a chance to unwrap our sandwiches, mine piled high with every vegetable and pepper available, his more moderately decorated with tomatoes, lettuce and cucumbers, a squadron of ducks waddled in line toward us.

“This is going to be fun,” I said almost in unison with James’, “Oh, no.” It’s all in how you look at it. And before it was all over, our laughter told the truth.

They were some brave ducks. They knew what they wanted and were used to getting it. They encircled us, wagging their tail feathers and bobbing their heads. I found it delightful. James was worried about his sandwich.

There was one little drab duck. She was timid, but committed. I don’t actually know if the duck was a female. But its petite frame and dainty movements said little lady. The way she tilted her head to look at me coyly reminded me so much of me, I am convinced of her female authenticity. She patiently sat about a foot to my right. I offered her bits of my sandwich bun which she gently nibbled from my fingers. She had the sweetest little ducky face I’ve ever seen.

Others weren’t so tentative. A hefty orange-billed, downy white duck waddled up behind me and pecked me on the back until I tossed some crumbs his way. Inhibited in no way, he continued this dance until James shooed him away repeatedly.

There is something magical about connecting with animals. I am fascinated by what happens when they attempt to communicate with me. I would love to know what they see, what they think when they look upon me, towering not so gracefully above them.

It must have been the testosterone. A caddy bird that had been hovering near James lowered his head and ran forward hissing and snapping. He got a few good tugs at the leg of James’ Lucky jeans before James had enough. “Okay, that’s it,” he said. He picked up a stick – oh maybe five inches long – and chased the ducks away, his arm moving in an arc through the air. (I promised not to mention how James nearly jumped into my lap when this aggressive little fellow came charging.)

For all our wriggling and shoo-ing, they didn’t give up. They waited it out even to the last of the chips -- jalapeño potato chips. I scattered the crumbs and stepped back for the troops. Without hesitation, they pecked up the scraps. They turned toward the lake and, rather quickly it seemed, headed to the water …perhaps on their way for a drink.