Cancellation of Duck TV

For the past week, a family of ducks has been living outside my door.  Whenever I wanted to get into my room at night or wanted to leave in the morning, I had to step over the mama duck and her four fluffly ducklings.  I sort of started feeding them on my porch so they started coming around more and more.  During the day, they would all come over to the dining hut, jump down off of the small cement porch and waddle around the floor looking for some food on the floor.  They were awfully small little fluffy guys and its easy to get attached to company like that in a place like Sudan.  

Yesterday when I saw the mama milling about outside the dining hut only two of the ducklings were in tow.  There is also a cat or some other animal that sometimes hangs out in the compound at night and has killed some of the chickens.  I suppose that all animals have to eat, but I had hoped that it wouldn't be the ducklings.  I kept sneaking them biscuits and what not so that they would grow up to an acceptable size a bit faster.  When I turned in last night, the ducks weren't there.  This morning, as usual the mama duck was outside the dining hall but this time she was alone.

Its sad, maybe I've gone "bushy" from too much time here already, but I sure miss those little guys.  Maybe its because Duck TV has been a real comfort and entertainment in a place where a wrong move will get you arrested by the military.  Maybe it had just become part of my daily routine--get up, step over the ducks, go to bed, step over ducks.  Maybe it was because a few days ago I took a nap with the door open and when I woke up all of the ducks were sitting in front of my bed waiting for me to give them a biscuit.  Maybe its because they're just so damn fluffy.  I wonder if the mother duck knows that her ducklings are gone.  Are ducks capable of sensing something like that?  I've definitely gone bushy.

In a strange twist of irony, this evening during dinner, we noticed sags pushing their way around on the canvas and grass roof of the dining hut.  It was the four paws of whatever cat (or cat-like animal) that had probably done the deed earlier.  As we were watching them, the feet suddenly stopped and a stain slowly started spreading in between them.  The cat was pissing through the roof.  Had it stopped a few feet earlier, it would have deposited its pungent yellow present all over the table with our dinner.  Its hard not to laugh at something like that.  I suppose it is an appropriate final chapter to Duck TV.