100 Pictures of a Duck named Squeaky
To see her egg first thing in the morning makes me smile and delights my rumbling tummy. A gift for me, from Squeaky the Duck. Each day a new egg, fresh and nearly white. But all winter, not one. Not one, single egg.
Then lo and behold on a late February morn, an egg. One egg, was found. When out walked the proud bird Squeaky, stretched out her wings, an impressive reach, then with a quick flap the feathers snapped and the air poofed about and she folded her wings back to their spot. Three quacks in rapid succession and she waddled down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Thank you, Squeaky,” picking up her egg, I followed behind.
Squeaky is anxious. She’ll wait for her meal. Too early for me! I throw her some lettuce. “Be quiet my dear, Squeaky,” and “Cheers!” to some cold water and I ran back to bed.
Squeaky alone, she can’t stand it. She quacks and runs from room to room, “Where you at?” “Where you at?” Squeaky says as she “Quacks.”
She finds me and pulls at my blanket, off with my cover. “O.K. O.k.” She’s got my attention.
Squeaky laughs like Batman’s Penguin and I get up out of bed. Squeaky leads the way, all the others awake, we meet in the kitchen and eye that egg.
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