Limpy The Duck

Lim has more precisely - had an affliction. What veterinarians - that's doctors of animals - refer to as, a malady. Not a life-threatening one, though. Just the same, an affliction which caused no small degree of discomfort, and no small smidgeon of embarrassment.

Limpy - as handed-down nomenclature implies - had, uh, a limp - a gimp; that goes with, one could suppose, with no small degree of insecurity. That, in fact, could be reflective of, not unsurprisingly, a "grumpy" disposition.

That's not what this story is about.

Sadly, it is true that his peers - the other ducklings - at Tom's backyard were prone to make fun of Gimpy. Yes, that poor dear bird was no stranger; in fact, he - or she - as it is hard for one to determine its gender - was accustomed to ridicule.

Was he upset about this lack of respect? No, not really. He took it in stride. Although, of course, his "stride," for more of his life, was hampered by affliction.

No one knows - not even Tom - of how long this duckling suffered from, or at least put up with, this malady - this affliction, this source of of embarrassment.. But, for as long as Tom has seen him (or her) prancing - oh - more accurately, wobbling in his backyard, Limpy has gone about his day - oh, and likely, his night - though no one can be sure because they, typically, are inside Tom's abode and aren't present to notice Limpy and his peers, his brethren polite or otherwise, his acquaintances, have been there outside Tom's home. His "casa" as his Latin amigos would say. His castle, as knights would espouse in days of yore.

Yes, Tom has been quite content and secure inside his residence.

Oh, as you surmise, Tom is a human. A "Human Being," as old Western movie once referred to a family of Native Americans. Or, "Type H" in that vintage sci-fi starring Kevin MaCarthy in the 1950s or Donald Sutherland in the remake of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," some 30 years later.

But we detract. Some folks say that this writer "rambles." Such is reminiscent of the once-popular song they played on a phonograph, "Rambling Rose."

Now, as in the old sci-fi, one needs a protector. Like the afore-mentioned actors, Limpy had one such confidant. A comrade, a consigliere, a uh, protector. His friend - amigo - was, understandably, another duck. Perhaps one his own age - kinda indeterminate as ducklings, by nature, do not show effects of time as do humans, via chronological physical shortcomings. You know: Age spots. Crow's feet; that's another bird, sometimes maglined and under-appreciated.

Or wait! Let's enter a joke into this literary equation. What headlines do humans try to avoid when it comes to physical drawbacks? Answer: Wrinkles!

But, we again detract. Did Limpy have a protector? He - or - she it's hard to say, as Tom or no one else knows, as it is difficult to determine a duck's gender. But, suffice to say that Limpy, indeed has a protector. One without a name. Not a good one, or not so good. Like, for instance, Johnny Cash's "Boy Named Sue."

Limpy's friend and confidant was well known - perhaps even popular - throughout the avian community. And, well-respected too. He was known for his prowess, his courage and perhaps - although we Type H Homo-spaniens could not know - even in avian optics - his good looks. Some of what we movie officinados would reflect on as say, Brad Pitt or Mission Impossible's Tom Cruise and Scarlett Johansson, Nicole Kidman, Angelina Jolie or Halle Berry. If you're of an earlier generation - Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe, or that ever popular 9-5 singer, the vivacious Dolly Parton.

Oh, as in her song, "Here I Go Again," rambling. Like Nat King Cole's "Rambling Rose."

Now, back to Limpy and his no-name protector.

Limpy, like Superman, had a vulnerability. His kryptonite: the afore-mentioned other ducks, to some degree. And parasites. And, predators inclined to gobble geese - or ducks, or perhaps those omnipresent critters abundant in South Florida, iguanas.

Event those typically affable animals cause peril to one lower down the food chain. Take for instance, this writer's beloved Siberian Husky, himself a rescued individual. Before him, a nary squirrel, raccoon, pigeon or kitten venture safely in the vicinity of this canine ever vigilant for prey. And one should pray that he never gets off his leash and catches up to them. Or a vulnerable bird, like, say, Limpy.

...When all of a sudden this tropical bliss is pierced by an ominous growl.

Now Tom, being of noble English descent, was not one prone to fear. Perhaps some hesitation when exploring the unknown as noted in the ground-breaking TV series "The Twilight Zone." That show was one to engender dread. One might recall that a U.S. president once famously proclaimed, "There is nothing to fear, but fear itself." That standpoint is debatable.

Back to Limpy's protector. Perhaps THAT can be his name! The protector was ever watchful. One of innate sensibility. He - or she - in response to the garrulous growl - as well as our protagonist, Limpy, took flight - literally - into the waterway. Safe to the relief of the noble English gent whose heart nearly skipped a beat.

So as our story ends, as the sun sets in the West, the cowboy rides out to the prairie or as the guy embraces the gal, we conclude.

PS: One can compare the life-happenings of our duck. Limpy, to human children and adults who faces adversity and in the end, triumph.

--Ira Liebowitz