Happy like a duck in water

One of my earliest memories came from a picture taken of me at Woodland Park Zoo.  The accompanying story was that I was with my family at the zoo surrounded by caged exotic animals. However, the animal that captured my rapt attention was not the tall giraffe, nor the fierce lion.  It was the pigeon that scavenged  for crumbs along our path.  I ran to catch it and it skipped away.  I reached for it and it fluttered beyond my grasp.  No matter how much they tried to interest me in wild creatures, I was only enamored with the scavenging pigeon.
After that I was known in the family as the person most likely to sing "Feed the birds, tuppence a bag...." or to leave a well worn path to try and snare a seagull or some other poor little creature like a squirrel, marmot, or mouse.
On a recent cold winter afternoon three of the kids and I visited the local Cannon Hill Park and fed ducks.  A younger mother accompanied by her young boys soon arrived eager to share their crumbs.  Within 10 minutes woman caught a mallard drake and held him for her sons, and the rest of us to inspect.  I reached to touch it's webbed feet and stroke it's feathered head, and asked she managed to catch one.  "I raised ducks on a farm .  I looked for the greediest one and then picked him up while he was focused on feeding", she replied.  And then she handed him to me.
 Well, I am happy to say that after 40 + years I finally had my hands on a wild scavenger bird.  Forget that someone else caught it. Mission accomplished.  I have finally held a "wild" scavenger bird.