full circle in the hundred acre wood

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?

Special Delivery


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.

0 thoughts on “Special Delivery

  1. What a cutie! You must have smiled all day after that PO visit. Life is full of wonderful quiet events.


  2. mary lou says:

    Oh Golly! I remember those days! And actually the Co-Op used to have the babies for sale every spring. I forgot about that!


  3. Kim Andersen says:

    I love the idea of purposeful interaction (chicks or not) –
    like the new express checkout at the grocery store – all self scan – no checker – what’s the point?
    When the girls were tiny, sometimes the only person I spoke to all day (besides the DH) was the grocery store checker.
    (p.s. – thanks for the very thoughtful comment and the words to the Scottish song – that is very touching)


  4. Shaddy says:

    I’m so glad you snapped a photo of that precious moment in the post office. Many moons ago, I worked in the catalog department in a Sears store. Occasionally, someone would order chicks to be delivered to the post office.
    One day, a fellow came in the store, dropped a dead chick on the counter in front of me and asked for a refund. No warning, just plop and there it laid. When he received his order, this little cutie hadn’t survived the trip. I’ll never forget that incident.


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