ducks

The little ducks were swimming about in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand on their heads in the water.

I'm sure I ain't going to try it on in the hall or passages; we can't afford to be roasting ducks about--our character's too bad."

An old man who used to frequent this pond nearly sixty years ago, when it was dark with surrounding forests, tells me that in those days he sometimes saw it all alive with ducks and other water-fowl, and that there were many eagles about it.

In regard to ducks and rabbits, the breeds of which differ considerably from each other in structure, I do not doubt that they all have descended from the common wild duck and rabbit.

Grace being said, -- for those people have their grace as well as we --though Queequeg told me that unlike us, who at such times look downwards to our platters, they, on the contrary, copying the ducks, glance upwards to the great Giver of all feasts --Grace, I say, being said, the High Priest opens the banquet by the immemorial ceremony of the island; that is, dipping his consecrated and consecrating fingers into the bowl before the blessed beverage circulates.

She went round the farm- garden, nibbling off snippets of all the different sorts of herbs that are used for stuffing roast duck.

In the meantime, outside the palace walls, the poor White Duck swam up and down the pond; and near it laid three eggs, out of which there came one morning two little fluffy ducklings and a little ugly drake.

'That's a good joke!' said Chanticleer; 'no, that will never do; I had rather by half walk home; I'll sit on the box and be coachman, if you like, but I'll not draw.' While this was passing, a duck came quacking up and cried out, 'You thieving vagabonds, what business have you in my grounds?

Here is the queer story of David William Duck, related by himself.

Dab-Dab, the duck, used to keep herself cool by jumping into the sea and swimming behind the ship.

He ducked forward and down, Ponta's fist just missing the back of his head.

But throughout it all the hope of that duck kept us up.