DUCKS in HOUSTON

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bob and Matt were visiting Houston in the early 80s. It was fun having them down for a visit, and I think that it was here that Bob began his lifelong love of agricultural products and wastewater treatment.

 

There were various encounters with strange and delightful animals on this trip, but in some ways it was sort of like a horror movie gone bad. Earlier in the week, we had returned from getting kicked out of Gilliey’s Roadhouse (remember Gilley’s? It was Mickey Gilley’s bar that was featured in the movie Urban Cowboy. Anyway, we drove down to Pasadena (often called Pasa-get down-dena) to have a beer or two with the refinery workers. As we were entering the bar, Bob bumped into the biggest, meanest looking boilermaker that you had ever seen. Bob yelled “Watch where you’re going, you dumb redneck!” and mayhem ensured. Suffice it to say that we were not invited back to meet Mickey and share a beer with him) and were coming up the driveway of our little house on Lyndonville Street (Lyndon as in the president, not Linden as in the street in Berlin) and as we poured out of the car, an armadillo scurried across our lawn! That was amazing. Bob, being the agricultural expert that he is, started chasing the little beast. He got up to it, and then kicked it like a football! It went flying through the air. Luckily, armadillos are tough (Armadillo translates to “little armored one”  from the Spanish) and it survived in tact. Oddly enough, it looks like there was a duck flying by at the very moment that the armadillo was airborne. Was there an exchange between the two? Who can say…

 

The next day, we drove down to Bear Creek Park (http://www.pct3.hctx.net/PBearCreek/Wildlife.htm) and spent some nice quality time walking around and watching the animals. We happened to have some pecans in the shell with us (I am not sure why. I guess that we were worried that the car would break down and we would have to have some provisions) and started feeding various animals. The most entertaining to feed were the Rheas, which would swallow the pecans whole, in their shell. You could see them go down their throats!

 

As we were walking back to the car, however, a male mallard (the one in the photo) spied us. From about 100 yards distant. We were walking down the street, and this duck lifted his head, stopped, looked long and hard at us, and then lowered his head and started running – that weird waddling run that ducks do when they are angry – at the three of us. We noticed it, but thought nothing of it. Why would we worry about a running duck 100 yards away? But we should have. Or rather, MATT should have. This duck made a bee-line right form Matt’s feet. As it came up to him, it started pecking at his feet in the most aggressive manner. Matt tried walking away, to no avail. Then he tried gently pushing the duck away, again to no effect, Finally, he had to run at full speed away, with the duck in full pursuit. He had to sit in the car while Bob and I enjoyed wandering around the aviary.

 

 

I think that everyone here knows that armadillos are notoriously short sighted, but they have a great sense of smell. IT turns out that Bob had borrowed Matt’s shoes the night before (you can’t get into Gilley’s with tennis shoes), so when he booted the beast, he must have smelled Matt (and blood and beer) on the shoes.

 

And oddly enough, as Bob and I were walking back to the car, we saw an armadillo watching that duck from the bar ditch…