We enjoyed a café au lait at the
Morning Call in City Park while watching a lady Muscovy Duck stroll between the
tables with her head held high. Slowly she meandered by; would she be offered
some bread, she didn’t seem concerned. In the doorway she stopped, waited for a
musician to plug in his guitar before sashaying past.
Flap, flap, flap big orange male
Muscovy feet beat a trail behind her. She ducked out of sight between the
columns and potted palms.
The red on his Muscovy head gleamed
brightly. He paused by each table. Am I
not a spectacular specimen? Will you
offer a morsel? His effort was not wasted; I tossed him a crumb. Without looking
in my direction he shoveled the food in his mouth and moved on. En route a
couple other patrons offered bits of beignets.
The guitar player absentmindedly
strummed. In black pants, white jackets and paper hats, waiters produced bread
for feathered guests. From out of nowhere the lady Muscovy emerged; her tail
wagging furiously as the waiters laid a trail of bread crumbs to the lagoon in
case the Muscovies had forgotten the way. Patrons smiled and nodded at each
other. A good deed has been done.
Powdered sugar is poured again. The
guitar thinks about a few more notes. Two little boys play rock, paper,
scissors, as mama sips her coffee. A strand of Spanish Moss floats on the
breeze. Waiters hustle to please. This is the life of ease. What’s wrong with
this picture?
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