Two big reasons Buck and I don’t get our mail delivered at home:
1. We like the people who work at the Charles H. Hendrix Post Office in Cantonment, Florida.*
2. Where else can we go to see baby ducks arrive by mail?
I was at the second window, kibbutzing with good-natured Gary, (that’s rose gardener Gary of the “That’s Easy” button), when the “cheep, cheep, cheep” sounds emanating from a box at the first window threatened to drown out all other talk.
The customer at the first window lifted up a corner of the box. Everyone in the room jumped back in surprise as a spritely yellow duckling hopped out. I scrambled to try and figure out how to take a picture with my cell phone. I only got this one, because as the duckling started hopping toward me, his little webbed feet making a slapping noise on the counter, the customer reached over with his big hand and scooped it up.
“Gotta get home. He’s hongry! I’ll be gettin’ the biddies in next week!” And he was gone. I left, too, chuckling all the way to the car.
(I hope the air holes on the other side of the box weren’t taped over. . .)
*More “post office chronicles” in the future.