A duck Killed my Mother . . .

Now some of you might have heard that person, Kathleen, complaining about how I, Mystic, keep spooking at ducks. Well, there is a good reason behind it.

One day, long ago, when I was just a young filly, my mother and I were turned out in a big pasture. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, the grass was green, birds were singing and butterflies were flitting all around us. As a young horse I just had to run and play, all around the pasture until I was hot and thirsty. Well, there was a big pond in the middle of the pasture and I decided to go down to it and get a drink. As I reached out my nose to touch the cool water I heard it, the flapping of wings. I glanced up to see the most terrifying sight, a duck, zooming towards me, wings flapping like evil windmills, beak bared, it had murder in its tiny black eyes. I was petrified, I couldn't move, as it made a lunge for my throat I knew I was going to die. Suddenly, right before it hit, my mother threw herself between us, taking the horrific attack herself, feathers flying, blood everywhere and all that hideous quacking.

It was over in a moment, the water had gone smooth again and there she lay, at my feet . . . dead. So I don't want to hear anymore complaining about me running away from ducks, she just needs to realize I am saving her life. You people have been lulled into a false sense of security, ducks are deadly, don't turn your backs on them. Stomp them to pieces before they get you or someone you love.

Mystic