Spoiler Alert!!! Do not read this post, or look at the photos, if you have a delicate stomach.

December 25 started as any other winter day on the Concord River — brilliant sunrise; crisp, cold air; ice on the river, and the return of my ducks! They hadn’t been around since the 14th, the morning of the first snowstorm. I was convinced they had migrated to the South or, at least, to an open body of water. However, here they were, quacking and jabbering, “Feed us!”

Return of the flock!

The hungry masses!

I was thrilled they were back, with all their friends. More ducks than I knew what to do with. Good thing I had seed and bread left over from the previous week. If not, I would have been taking orders for Dunkins.

Well, things quickly took a turn for the worse. Not only did my ducks come home but a Bald Eagle arrived a short time later. A very hungry Bald Eagle.  He/she (I’m not sure of the gender) swooped out of the air, grabbed a male duck from the lawn and carried him to the ice opposite my retaining wall. The rest of the ducks took off like rockets, leaving their brethern to his fate. The eagle plucked, gouged, and fed on the drake, which was still alive for about three minutes into the carnage. What happend to quick deaths?

Now, I know it’s the circle of life, and yes, eagles are majested birds, and yes, ducks are at the bottom of the food pyramid, and yes, nature can be cruel and beautiful, but OMG! I didn’t sign-up for this! Anyway, stop here if you don’t want to see the photos.

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I hope the duck’s spirit is soaring high.

On a side note, Chris was thrilled to watch the whole, bloody thing (sigh). Blessed be :{