Feeding the Ducks - a Christmas Story

by Georgie d'Hainaut

20 Dec 2017 639 readers Score 8.3 (20 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


Feeding the Ducks…a Christmas Story

 The elderly man rummaged around in his small house. He was cleaning up for the coming Christmas. Since his friend and partner had passed away he lived there alone. And he managed, that was not the problem. But with the passing years he became more and more lonely. Old friends died, he had new neighbours and worst of all: he hadn’t seen the children out of an earlier marriage again. They had casted their father out of their lives: our father gay? Unbelievable!

But he was strong. He had plenty to do with his plants and gardening. Yeah, that garden…it was his friends pride and joy and he felt obliged to maintain it to his memory. And there were always things to be done in the house. So he had to admit: he didn’t notice that much loneliness.

Except now, with Christmas coming. What is called coming? On December 24th you might as well declare it “arrived”. These were tough days each and every year.

If he was lucky someone might visit him. This someone would barge in, have a cup of coffee and would be gone within an hour, leaving him all alone in the silent house again. He often had the idea, that people did it to satisfy some moral duty and so every now and then he caught himself red-handed on entertaining the thought that they might as well stay away.

But like every year he had tried to make it a bit cozier and agreeable. He had bought a small Christmas tree, hung up decorations and had decided to make something out of it, no matter how difficult it might be.

After another day of preparations for the “big thing” evening fell.

Again there was no news from his children, a certain sign that he was still unwanted. He fed the canary, made coffee and put on the telly. Then he made himself comfortable. There was no news on the television: Christmas carols, some Christmas service form some church somewhere in the country….the standard program on Christmas Eve. It bored him and he put the television off and put the radio on. He took a book and read in it, listening absent-mindedly to the radio. But the radio as well had not much news to offer: Christmas carols again, the Queen’s speech and the speech by the Prime Minister.

“Man,” he muttered to himself,” I’m getting old! Each year the same phrases in those speeches. I know them by now, I think”

Around eleven he really got bored. The book didn’t interest him any longer and the radio spew out an incessant flow of Christmas songs, all of them supported by the American “jingle bells”-effect, that he hated. A bit pensive he stared in front of him.

“What now, mate? Go to bed?” he murmured. His thoughts went back to when his friend was still alive. Then they had sat around the Christmas tree, had a few drinks, chatted until morning and had a good time. He shook his head:

“Don’t do it! Don’t think about how it used to be! You’ll gain nothing from it. I have to make something out of tonight! But how?”

A broad smile came on his face and his eyes twinkled: he had a great idea!

He rose and went to the kitchen, where he started to search for a plastic carry-all. Once he found it he stuffed all the bread he could find in it, adding the Christmas cake for good measure. It was a lot, one bag didn’t suffice.

Then he put on his coat and his wool cap and left the house, armed with the two carry-alls.

It was intensely cold outside. A raw wind was blowing, which made him shiver, despite the coat. He got into his little car, started it and drove to the forest outside the city.

Once he got there he took the bags out and started to walk on the dark and silent trail. His feet crunched heavily in the frozen snow and again he felt the coldness from the wind that blew through the naked trees. After about a ten minute walk he arrived at the pond, where he looked for his favourite bench in the darkness. No, it was their favourite bench, his and his friend’s. He put the bags on the ground and started to get the bread out.

“Come on, boys, time for the Christmas dinner” he called out over the frozen pond.

It took a little while, but then tens of hungry ducks stormed the shore and pushed each other aside, chattering excited, while he strew around bread and cake. Some other bird also invited himself to the banquet.

“Nobody worries about you this evening as they don’t about me, so, let’s keep each other company” he spoke to the bevy of ducks.

While strewing the bread around he gazed into the pitch black sky. The stars were twinkling in the frosty cold air, one of them was huge and very bright.

“Take a look, boys, the Christmas star, it stands over Bethlehem” he whispered. But the ducks were too occupied with guzzling the food down to bother about some star over…where did he say it was?

With a satisfied smile he looked at the birds during their Christmas feast. At least he had made someone happy this night. Then his gaze went up again, to the dark sky with its stars.

It got lighter…no, it became very light indeed…he heard singing. He pinched his arm to make sure he was awake. This was not possible!

But it was possible, at least to his eyes and ears. In the light angels were discernible, who sang accompanied by soft toned instruments. They were beautiful heavenly creatures who flew through the sky with blending white wings. “In dulce jubilo”, “Peace on earth for all people of good will”. The light increased again in intensity, the number of angels grew. It became a bit scary! But at the same time it remained very peaceful and beautiful. Right in the middle of all this light a real blinding spot of light came up. His face expressed an incredible happiness and with gleaming eyes he spoke:

“Hello, sweet darling! Shall we be together again?”

It was not the most ideal way to start Christmas Day. He woke at seven and no matter what he tried, he didn’t manage to fall asleep again. So he rose. At first light he decided that he might as well take the dog with him for a walk in the forest.

So there he was, at dawn in the winter cold on Christmas morning of all things. The dog ran around happily and jumped over fallen branches and tree trunks.

“Hey, where is he?” he asked himself softly all of a sudden. He looked around, but there was no dog to be seen. He whistled, he whistled again…no reaction!

“Benny, come on, boy!” he called out.

He heard the dog barking. It was somewhere near the pond.

“Benny, front!” he called out again.

Again there was only agitated barking, but the dog didn’t show up, command or no command!

Somewhat irritated he shrugged. Then he had to find out where this rascal was hanging around. He went in the direction of the barking and came at a bench at the pond.

“Come on, boy, don’t……”. He stopped in mid-sentence. What was that?

On the bench sat an elderly gentleman. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t move at all. The dog was barking excitedly in front of him, but the man didn’t react at all.

He neared the scene with a gloomy premonition. He touched the man lightly by the shoulder, but again there was no reaction at all.

“Fuck, no!” he muttered, “this can’t be true!”

He took his cellular and a bit panicky he dialed 911.

“I believe there is a dead man at the pond in the city forest, on a bench” he stuttered to the operator.

Despite the distance from the forest to the city the first police car was on location within five minutes.


I wish all readers a great Christmas and a terrific 2018. May the New Year become all what you desire of it.

by Georgie d'Hainaut

Email: [email protected]

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