A duck walks into a movie theater, waddles straight down to the first row and flutters up into his seat. The guy next to him looks over, then double-takes. “Say, aren’t you a duck?” The duck replies, “Indeed, a mallard.” “That’s odd,” says the gentleman, “Why would you fly in to see this movie?” “Well,” said the duck, “I really liked the book.”  

Ducks are the funniest birds. Well, they’re one of them. Ummm, okay, there’s probably no empirical evidence confirming that they’re a riot. But I’m pretty sure, in bird circles, they must be known for their comedic timing and clever turn of a phrase. For sure funnier than geese. Anyway, while ducks appear to love to see the movie version of a book, I use books as a reason to never go to the movies. Oh, The Revenant looks chilling, I wonder if there’s a book? The Finest Hour, In the Heart of the Sea, Unbroken, Bridge of Spies, Dunkirk and many, many more … I just pick up the book and make the movie in my mind.

For the majority of people on the face of the earth, the crow will be the single most- often-encountered native wild animal in their lives. This can be viewed as good news or bad news. If you just saw the movie The Birds, their presence on your front lawn might give you pause. If you like the way they eliminate roadkill and help tidy up the neighborhood, you may revel in this closeness. Don’t confuse crows with Heckle and Jeckle. Heckle and Jeckle are magpies, and oh ya, Heckle speaks with a Brooklyn accent and Jeckle has an English accent.

Lots of people like birds, go to remote places to look for them, count their feathers and log them in a bird-feather diary (one with a lock). In 1820, John James Audubon set out from Cincinnati with a gun and a paint box. He floated down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers with the intent of painting a life-sized portrait of every bird he saw. His landmark work ultimately included paintings of 497 bird species. A badass accomplishment that feels so American. He devised a plan, executed the plan and made a priceless contribution to art and science and his countrymen.

Following birds around with binoculars, painting their portraits, appreciating their intelligence, in general, celebrating their birdy goodness, would seem to be motivated by just one fact. Birds are delicious. How else to explain that today, at any one time, there are 20 billion chickens on Earth? The average American eats about twenty-seven chickens every year. I’ll take mine in strips, nuggets and cajun chicken sandwiches (can you bring some Tabasco with that?) Of course, I’m just joshin’, birds are cool for a bunch more reasons than they taste good on a bun.

If we see crows almost every day, we also with some regularity probably see hummingbirds. I bought a carton of hummingbird eggs not too long ago, but it was kinda close to Easter and they ended up being candy-coated malt balls. In a recent poll, hummingbirds, by a pretty solid margin, were voted “most likable.” Okay, I made that up. But they are pretty and fast and tough. If you put up one of those containers with sugar water, they have been known to use their long, pointed beaks as swords to defend it, sometimes to the death. Sugar water rivals aside, hummingbirds have no natural enemies and exist in about 330 different species, most weighing only 3 or 4 grams. In a development less darling, Celtic myth considered hawks and falcons as messengers between this world and the next. So a duck walks into hell …