My father collected ducks. When he was younger, he used to hunt ducks. I hated when we had to eat them at dinner, as they were so full of shot. As my father got older, he acquired an aversion to hunting, instead he would just wander in fields, looking at the ducks as they gathered.
Later still, he began collecting images and sculptures of ducks. All I have left of my father now, is a small carved duck that sits on my desk.
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