This morning I saw a huge duck, well that’s what I think it was. It had a green head and a ring on his neck. The rest of his body, his wings and torso were golden brown. I live in the city and we usually see pigeons or some kind of small birds which honestly I’m too ignorant to know about. It was a pedestrian road and at that moment it was deserted, no human being walking there except me and my co-worker, who later told me he saw it coming from above, pointing to the sky but actually a tree. Of course, a tree. But it was such a big and unusual bird to stay on a tree. So I still asked if it fell from an apartment above us. It does sound like a silly assumption if not for my surprise at the sign of such animal.
It slowly made his way. It didn’t fly. It just walked. I suppose to the park. I had to go work.
My father said it was a mountain chicken. He said when he was little, he and his friends would run for it when they saw one at their mountain. You would run and try to catch it, cause that’s what you should do.
I’m not sure if that was a chicken or a duck. It felt like a phoenix to me to be honest. Not because it would die and reborn. It had been something unique and special. It didn’t feel real at all.
I wish I took a photo of it but it kept walking and I like things to be still, to wait for me. I didn’t carpe the diem, I never do. I’m feeling disappointed at myself for not doing it. I’m feeling angry at it for not coming back for me. I’m being unreasonable again.