Once upon a time, my wife and I were given a duck lamp. Why a duck lamp, you say? I don’t know–why not a duck lamp? We had no idea what to do with it, we just thought it was unique. (Friends and family confirmed that “unique” is the word for it.) According to our friend’s memory, the duck itself was carved by hand, and later a lamp was added to the base.
For nearly a year, our little duck friend lit the side of our bed, and the pages of quite a few good books. He was faithful and steadfast, a very honest duck, so we thought. After our first move, though, he spent some time in storage. We’d look at him occasionally, and wonder, “where can we put our little friend?” When our son was born, the number of locations the duck could safely inhabit shrunk; babies and cords on the floor don’t mix well.
Well, we finally decided that while the duck was now a sentimental part of our home, the lamp itself was not. A mixture of screwdrivers and ingenuity resulted in the duck sans lamp. In the process of removing the wiring, I realized that the duck itself (the hand-carved part) was attached to a ceramic base. After examining the base, I wondered how the duck’s creator managed to get the ceramic to look so much like the wooden duck.
Then I noticed a tiny little chip on the duck’s webbed foot.
Now, I’m no wood expert, but I’m pretty sure wood doesn’t chip. It cracks, it splinters, but it doesn’t chip. Ceramic, however–including ceramic painted to look like wood–chips all the time.
No doubt about it: our little hand-carved duck
–is a quack.