What does a duck think?

Ducks are whimsical creatures.  Their gait is really an awkward waddle.  While they move more gracefully through air and water, they seem a little out of place on land.  While a lion earns fear and respect with its roar, a songbird garners praise for its melodies.  But with its loud, random staccato quacks, what does a duck get?  Perhaps it is called witty, or boastful, or maybe just snickered at.  And what of the particular joy with which ducks shovel mud for worms?  They could be humble ascetics, dirty hedonists, or merely oblivious of their niche.  What other living thing in creation can be so readily compared to Man?

Ducks are a sort of proof to me of God’s humor, or “mirth” as G.K. Chesterton concludes his Orthodoxy.  The odd peculiarities of our creation are not just random, they are design.  That’s something to rejoice in, because while God might have called someone to be a noble lion, or a graceful swan, there is also something of value in the humble station of a duck.