And now for something,

totally different, to show my warm and fuzzy side, and someone else's close call. When we lived on Victoria Ct, near Waneka Lake, there was a Mallard duck mother, walking her string of ducklings, in a single file, from the pond where they were born, to the much bigger lake. We were watching them waddle down the cul de sac when the neighbors' dog rushed at them. He didn't get any, but scattered them, far and wide. We later found 3 babies, who had been separated, and Kari decided to raise them. Baby ducks are cute, but very messy. (They poop alot). One day, they were in the bathtub when I walked in and saw one of them floating, not moving, with it's head laying in the water. I immediately started mouth to beak respiration, and blew it up like a balloon, (literally), then squeezed the air back out, and repeated the move for awhile. Surprise! The duck came back to life, and was fine after that. Figured it was the least I could do, considering all the mallard dinners I've had over the years...