Scribblings by Sarah

Quacking Quackers

Last weekend, my husband and I were walking around the lovely, serene Lake Ginninderra in Canberra’s north. The lake, though man-made (to deal with excess stormwater around the area), is fed by nearby Ginninderra Creek.

The word “ginninderra” is derived from the local indigenous Ngunnawal word, meaning “sparkling” or “throwing little rays of light”. On most days, this is an exceptionally apt name as the lake is also one of my favourite kayaking spots, with pristine glassy water shimmering reflected light from it.

I also love this lake for its abundance of bird life. I enjoy indulging my inner “twitcher” as I strive to spot and name the plethora of species that call the lake their home.

So after strolling along the shores in John Knight Memorial Park, I was delighted to see some mallard ducks paddling the shallows with 6-8 very young, very fluffy, very ADORABLE ducklings. Sharing my delight, was a boy throwing bread to our happy feathered family.

Or so I thought…

As I drew nearer I was horrified to hear a “clack” as the “bread” hit the ground just shy of the shoreline near the ducks.

The little turd was throwing rocks at them!

I clicked my tongue in anger and my husband, sensing my rage, told me to “leave it”.

But I just couldn’t.

What.
The.
Actual.
F@ck.

What was WRONG with this child?

As a teacher, I just couldn’t let this behaviour go by.

“Hey!” I shouted in my best teacher-voice (I am on holidays after all), “How would you like it if I threw some rocks at you? Stop it and leave them alone.”

He looked at me goggled-eyed and disbelieving and I had a nanosecond where I felt I had gotten through to him.

Until his claque (AKA parents) swooped down from their high horses and began to tell me off for daring to reprimand their precious, darling, little pyscho….I mean, son.

I repeat.

What.
The.
Actual.
F@ck.

What is WRONG with (some) parents?

How is this ok?
What example are they setting?
Were they simply embarrassed at their lack of supervision and taking it out on me?

So the lesson that kid learned:
Go ahead.
Throw rocks at the ducks.

Don’t listen to what anyone tells you, but most of all…
Don’t worry about being a good human.


I know it’s “just” ducks and I know I’m sounding old but, seriously? How has it come to this? The world has gone quacking quackers!

I struggle to comprehend this entitled, selfish style of clique parenting. We are growing monsters of our youth; indulging and accepting their every whim instead of letting them grow and learn from their mistakes.

I walked away.
Speechless.

My husband turned to me, shook his head sadly, and said, “Told you to leave it.”





p.s. I hope that kid gets seriously swooped during magpie season. The birds will have their day.



Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Double Take - 8 January 2022
Other, Poetry by Sarah

Dare Not

No one dare say
this is going to be our year
We need to walk in slow
Tread quietly. Tiptoe.

Be cautious
Be respectful
Be prepared
And don’t touch anything

Let 2022 be.
Instead, just hope
Hope it knows the assignment
This year will be its own creation
– whether we like it or not.

By Sarah ©2022

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, First Line Friday – 31 December 2021 and Saturday Mix – 1 January 2022*

*Line poetry contains a hidden message. When the last line of each stanza is read, it forms it’s own mini poem or tale.