Long-Tailed Duck: A Short Story

I can take care of myself. I’m an adult. Not just any ordinary adult. I am an adult male Long-Tailed Duck. My grandfather was what you called an “Oldsquaw.” My mother and father told me stories when I was just a hatchling of other beings called Humans. One species of Human called “Native Americans,” found the name was offensive, so they wanted  another species of Human called “Ornithologists” to change the name to something that fitted my species better, the Long-Tailed Duck.

Right now I am flying with some Canada Geese. I found myself landing on a strange river that did not look like any of the rivers in my Canadian homelands. For days people watched me with objects that made their eyes look bigger. A Canada Goose called them Binoculars. This species of human is called “Birders, or Birdwatchers.” I had a sudden feeling of loneliness, and that I was very far from my own kind. Hey! I shouldn’t let the loneliness get to me, I kind of like the attention! Like all animals, we have to move on, and the humans gathered their stuff, and moved on. As far as those Humans are concerned, they were the first people to see me since my early days in Canada.

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