My spirit animal: the fat bottomed farm duck

It beats a puma

Of all the animals in the yard, I think the ducks are probably my spirit animals. I've always thought the concept of spirit aminals was kind of silly. But, if I had one, I hoped it would be a sleek hunter like a puma or a tiger. However, the more time I spend with the ducks, the more I realize that's what I am . . . I'm a duck. More specifically, I'm a farm duck.

Ducks waddle around joyfully but often lack purpose. They get disproportionately happy at small things, like fresh water to sully. They're messy. When they produce, it's in manic episodes with massive output followed by long dry spells. Sometimes I look at the ducks and wonder precisely how they manage to be still alive at all. Also, they have absolutely no idea how utterly absurd they are.

Yet, somehow, every morning, I walk out to the quacking and can't help but crack a smile. It's impossible to be angry around a duck.