Based on a true story...

I rhythmically rocked my newborn baby boy to sleep in the quiet of the night. It was his first night time feeding, meaning there was another to anticipate. Most evenings I enjoyed the night hours alone with my son; just the two of us quietly sitting together to relax. I gazed at his soft skin and little nose and began to feel my eyelids close.

I was abruptly yanked out of my peaceful state by the sound of a honking, horn-like sound. "ANGH! ANGH! ANGH! ANGH!" The sound bellowed through the walls of my once quiet home. My heart began to pound rapidly against the interior of my chest. I waited patiently to hear any reaction to the noise from my other family members who were sound asleep. Nothing. I waited. "ANGH! ANGH! ANGH! ANGH! ANGH! ANGH!" The noise was louder this time. Was it moving toward me? Was it inside the house? Outside? I couldn't tell. The sound resembled a combination of an alarm clock and a sputtering motorcycle without a muffler. Or maybe an electrical malfunction of some sort of household appliance. After the noise quieted, I again intently listened for someone else in the house to wiggle or rustle their covers in reaction to the noise. Nothing. "ANGH! ANGH! ANGH! ANGH!" Was it a bomb? Why was it so loud and why wasn't anyone doing anything about it?

I quickly put the baby down into his bouncy chair, silently praying he would stay asleep while I left his side for a minute. "ANGH! ANGH!" As I ran down the stairs, I determined that the sound was definitely coming from outside. So much for blaming the noise on an obnoxious alarm on my husband's cell phone! "ANGH! ANGH! ANGH! ANGH! ANGH!" Ugh! Annoying! Enough already! I flipped on the light switch for our back porch light and flung open the back door.

The January snow had an icy crust and was glistening white under the reflection of the glow from the porch. The bright orange feet and bill stood out in shocking contrast to the snow. Yes, I said orange feet and bill. A giant white duck was standing smack in the middle of my back yard. It was as still as a statue, and silent at that particular moment. It looked huge, not like your regular little duck in the neighborhood pond. I couldn't believe my eyes. A duck? In the winter? Aren't ducks supposed to migrate or hibernate or fly south or ... be somewhere other than standing in my backyard?

I closed the door so the freezing cold air would not penetrate the warmth of our little house, and ran back up the stairs to awaken my husband. I didn't know what to do! The bird was standing so still, it looked like it was frozen solid. Maybe it was frozen solid. Should I try to scare it away? Should I politely invite it inside? Was I being filmed for Candid Camera?

"Shawn! Wake up!" I nudged my sleeping husband. He had only been asleep for a little over an hour and had to wake up in less than five more. "What is it?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes. "There's a duck in our backyard." I started to giggle. It sounded so silly when spoken aloud. "What?" he asked. "There's a big, white duck in our backyard and it is quacking so loud!" I laughed a little harder. "Should I bring it inside?" I asked. "Are you kidding me?" Shawn asked. "That thing will tear this place up!" "Oh, you're right. Well, what should I do?" "Nothing." Shawn replied. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

Now what. I had a sinking feeling he didn't believe me. Not that I cry wolf all of the time, but maybe I have exaggerated a little bit in the past... I slowly walked back down the stairs, trying to figure out what to do. I saw my cell phone on the kitchen counter and decided I needed evidence. Hard, fast evidence of the creature lurking in my backyard. I slowly opened the back door, careful not to scare the duck away. I held the phone out in my hand and took a picture of the frozen duck. The phone flashed and the evidence was captured! I quickly took a look at my phone screen and was disappointed to see a black square without any sign of the white duck. I guess cell phones were not created to take pictures in the dark. Were cell phones created to take pictures at all? Hmm.

As I was squinting to see any sign of the duck within the dark photograph, I felt something furry graze my ankles. My little black and white Shihtzu, Rags, had darted through my legs and out the back door. "Rags!" I yelled. "Rags! Come!" It was too late. Rags had spotted the duck. He stared at the duck, slowly taking in the unusual sight just as I had moments before. Then Rags darted directly at it. The duck frantically flapped its large wings and began to fly. It was too large to lift more than five inches off of the ground, but it swiftly headed toward the front yard. Rags took off, determined to catch the strange being that had invaded his territory. "Oh, great," I thought to myself. I envisioned white feathers flying everywhere if Rags was to actually catch the poor animal.

Rags wears a collar that deters him from running too far away from the house, so I knew he could not chase the duck forever. And Rags was a Shihtzu, not a Retriever, so I probably should have been more worried about Rags getting eaten alive rather than the duck. But I couldn't help but worry about that darn duck. Was he cold? Lost? Sick? I worried for a minute, let the dog back inside, then walked upstairs to go to bed. It was no use losing sleep over the feathered fowl.

As I climbed in bed, I again enjoyed the silence and stillness of my home. Yet in the distance, I heard a faint "ANGH! ANGH! ANGH!" and I wondered if the ghost duck had succeeded in haunting yet another house. Or if someone captured a photo of it. Or if someone invited it in from the cold to stay the night.