I absolutely need to stop taking that morning drive to the Park. The ducks are splintered, and it's just no fun anymore.

I think I've figured out the culprit. It's a smaller wild duck, maybe one of the two wild ducks from the old crew, but I suspect it's newer to the scene. He put's his head down to the ground and attacks everyone in my main group of three. They can't eat from my hand anymore because this little guy attacks them. I'm sure he's adopted the other group, who hardly get out of the water around the dock anymore. He even goes after the geese.

I'm thinking it's a mating thing, hell, I have no idea what gender these birds are. The little attack duck is doing what comes naturally in the wild.

The final revolution came this morning, when the fisherman at the dock put down their poles to watch the old man carrying a bag of seed, running around yelling at a small duck, and chasing him into the water.

I have gone from Duck Whisperer, to the crazy old oddball at Lindsey Lake. It's time to put the bag away, for good. Move on to some other morning routine that defines me and gives me purpose.

Wish me luck with that...