It started so sweetly, there was a duck, on our porch outside the front door.
We named him, Mr Quackers.
He paced back and forth, we thought it was cute.
Half hour later, he is still there, now he is scraping his beak against the door. Weird.
James goes to help him find his way back to the reserve with some bread, Mr Quackers heard him coming from the back gate and quickly disappeared from the porch to investigate.
'Quick James, he is trying to get into the backyard'
James then snuck through the front door, trying to lead Mr Quackers down the drive way, this is when it started to get scary. Mr Quackers turned on James and ran after him.
'GET THE DOOR!'
Safe in side, hour and a half later, he's there. We check out the front window, he sees us and waddles up at an alarming rate.
Three hours later, after the tapping and quacking, the pacing and waddling, the wildlife protection lady came, she picked him up in a blanket, he wasn't afraid, he seemed very use to humans. We could tell though, the look in that ducks eye was sinister. He was laughing at us.
Last night was the night we were held hostage in our own house by a duck.
This is a true story.
