The river claimed one and then there were five.
Five little ducklings, spreading their tiny wings to soar. The river claimed another one and then there were four.
Four little ducklings, oh goodness what do I see? Not four ducklings, but, sadly, only three.
Angie’s brood has shrunk down in size but not feistiness. They get into the thick of things with the adults, pulling feathers like pros. Why not? Their mom is Angie, coolest hen on the river.
It wouldn’t be summer without duck tales. Blessed be. :}