Yeah, they're at it again, mid-flight madness. ****** Tunes doesn't come close to the deranged daffiness one might witness at the lakes this morning. Wacky waterfowl white washing each others' *****. Mother nature is looking for an indecency arrest. Worse than some men I've met crawling through the bushes at Buena Vista Park in San Francisco, or here at Judy Garland Park in Philly. Every city has that spot you know. Unseemly areas where frivolous feathers get ruffled alongside muskrat love tumbling. Knock over, lose footing, take a header, bowl down, go belly up, do a pratfall, fall headlong, slip, slump, skid, spill, plummet and plunge into nose dive. Descent as such, with its dip dropping and flopping, when ducks are doing it in air-raids in prime seedtime, seems only a natural order.

So, my advice to you more demure is, keep your priggish, prudish, pretentious, puritanical, uptight primness off those unbeaten paths, because birds just gotta beat one off every once in awhile. Duck, here comes another. Splat, see I told you so.