I have been a collector of things for quite some time now. My collections have extended from snow globes, to stamps, and even coins for a period of time.But what currently with holds my fascination are various types of ducks carved out of wood. My ducks are more than just items to me. They’re tiny treasures that I love and appreciate. They have been apart of me since I discovered one at a yard sale three years back.

The day I discovered the duck it was a bright Saturday afternoon and I was out on my routine stroll through the neighborhood. As I walked children zipped by as the excitedly played tag. The sun peered through the tree tops as I walked beneath them, lightly pecking at my cheeks with it’s warmth. As I was about to loop around back to my house, I noticed a bright sign that simply stated “Garage Sale” with an arrow pointing up the street from my own. I knew I shouldn’t have surrendered to temptations, but my curiosity peeked my interest. I followed the arrows as it lead me farther and farther up the street.  Once I had walked three blocks, I came upon a cream and pink trimmed house with an accumulation of people in front of it. The owners had set up three tables with antiques, toys, and mounds of old clothing. I strolled around the people of the neighborhood, glancing here and there at old dump trucks and jeans. I had made my last stroll around the antique table. I saw the duck, surrounded buy old campaign buttons and old tools. I was astounded. It was a Saxony Duck and the owner claimed it was carved in 1957.  It was nothing I had ever seen. The craftsmanship was incomparable. The duck was nothing like any of my other trinkets. I bought it from them for forty cents. I then walked back to my residence excitedly to add my new prize to my collection room.

My collection room is very organized. I have 3 bookshelves that mirror each other on either side of the room. In the middle of the farthest wall beneath the only window, I have a workbench for whenever my collectables need a touch up or dusting. The workbench was also the home of my work computer, but most of my work consists of searching for additions to my shelves. I painted the room white so that nothing would upstage all of my knick knacks. On that day, I was still in the early stages of collecting and hadn’t filled all of my shelves. The very last shelf on the right side was completely empty, perfect for such a piece as this one. I gently placed it onto the top shelf and backed away to admire it. It looked gorgeous as it perched upon the shelf. However, my duck didn’t seem to fit in with it’s surroundings. It was out of place and seemed to be out shined by the overflowing shelves around it’s own. I wanted no such fate for a beautiful piece. I went to my computer and searched for a duck as lovely as mine. Hours passed slugishly as I clicked past thousands of ducks. None of them appealed to my taste. Some too small, too freshly painted, and others were just too plain. I peered over to my proud duck as the setting sun’s beams peered through my window. I sighed and turned back to my computer to search one last time. As I skimmed through various sites I had checked earlier, I found one that peeked my interest. A site that I must’ve missed. The site took me to the blog of a man who had my exact addiction.

On his blog he posted pictures of all of his ducks neatly placed one after the other in a glass case. I would never trap my collectables in such a manner, but different people have different methods. He posted pictures of each duck posing alone as well. I scrolled through them, becoming more and more amazed at what he owned. I scrolled through duck after duck, until i came across the most exquisite duck of them all. He captioned it “Call Duck- 1943”. It was perfect! It was exactly the duck I needed for mine. This was the only duck suitable for it. I had to have it. My duck would have lived a life of solitude without that duck. This mystery collector had his e-mail posted on his blog for questions about the ducks. I formally asked to meet him at his home to see my duck’s one true mate. I told him what city I lived in and my current fascination with his ducks and requested to see them all, even though they had been cadged in glass prisons. I had sent my request a little after five,I waited anxiously as I ate dinner. As soon as I had finished I went back to my collection room and found a new message in my email’s inbox. In his reply, he accepted my request to see his ducks and was ecstatic to have found a fellow duck collector.  I wasted no time. I bolted from my chair, taking my laptop and computer bag with me. As I rushed by my coat rack, my jacket seemed as if it was ready to be put on, however it was also ready to wrestle against me. I fumbled trying to get the jacket on. Ages seemed pass before I could get my damn arms through. Once my arms were free, I ran out of my house and made my way to my fellow collector’s house.

The man lived surprisingly close. His house was about 20 minutes from my own, and I was surprised that it wasn’t as grand as I thought it would seem to be. He lived in a small neighborhood that were surrounded by thick woods. His house in particular barely took up his lot and was a dark shade of green. His front garden was untouched and had clearly not been taken care of. The walkway that led to his door was cracked and weeds clambered through the thick cracks. I was expecting more, but I only knew that what was inside was far more promising. I walked up the stone pathway and rang his door bell. There was silence. I patiently waited for a minute before ringing again. The second ring brought echoing footsteps along with it. Drawing closer and closer as the bell faded out. The man opened the door with a questioning look. He was an old man with a sagged, wrinkled face. His hair was grey and was matted in almost every curl. He wore red, plaid pajamas with a white undershirt, and blue slippers to complete his look. I was quick to introduce myself and remind him of my earlier e-mail. He took a minute to recall, then recalled what I had asked, and welcomed me in.

His house was messy and cramped. He had boxes that towered overhead as I navigated through his house and followed, growing more and more anxious to see the ducks. After what seemed like forever in his maze of boxes, there was a small clearing that resembled that of a living room. A sofa was up against the farthest wall with a 25 inch screen T.V. before it. Along his wall behind the sofa were the ducks. All  of them perfectly centered, each duck having its own personal light. In the middle of all of the glass cases was the duck that has struck me with pure amazement. I went over to it’s case and inspected it. It’s craftsmanship was far more superb than what I had seen on my laptop. The man noticed my interest and chuckled at my behavior. Still looking at the duck, I asked how much the duck was. His light chuckle faded away. His face grew in disdain and discomfort. “It’s not for sale.” he said bluntly. Even though I had not seen his expression, his voice gave off an annoyed tone. I turned around to quickly apologize and ask for forgiveness for my rude behavior. He accepted and proceeded to ask if I would like a drink. I humbly accepted. When he left the room, I dashed back to the case. It hadn’t been locked, so I unlatched the glass door and opened it. Skillfully, I slowly  extracted the duck from it’s place. I then placed it in my bag, making sure to keep it from harm. I looked around and he had not yet returned. This was my opportunity. I sprinted out of the living room with excitement and fear. I maneuvered through the boxes as they weaved through his house. I found the front door and ran even faster to escape the man’s house.

I had finally had it. The perfect counterpart for my duck was now in my possession.  When I got home I placed it promptly next to the one I had bought earlier. They were perfect together. Just as I had pictured it. Neither one was too flashy or standout-ish. They fit together splendidly. My love for the two grew. Now my duck wasn’t lonely anymore. It had a friend to keep close and to rely on.  And from then on my pair of ducks, would only gain more and more ducks to live and grow with as life went on.