I’m still the foster parent for five Pekin ducks. Homes need to be found for four of the five. One is challenged, no social skills with fellow ducks, prone to standing in a corner, no instinct for putting himself to bed and sketchy eating habits. Every evening I hunt him down in the dark so others won’t. He makes the one who’s been missing an eye since ducklinghood appear fully abled. Naturally he’s the one duck I’m thinking we should hold onto. It took me weeks to catch them in the act of bathing in their not so natural pond. I had noted that post breakfast they were looking cleaner, more groomed in a metrosexual fashion but had still not witnessed the ritual. Satisfaction came in the form of the sound of splashing the other morning.