Crying fowl

My house is a few blocks away from the city park, in the middle of which is a huge man-made lake. It's really pretty, when it's not ripe with decaying algae or your escapee dog isn't taunting you from the middle of it while you scream ineffectually from the shore.

However, for the last three nights, I have been roused from my precious slumber at 3am by ducks. What sounds like hundreds of ducks, or geese, having a waterfowl rave. Or maybe an orgy.

(A whole new meaning to the phrase "fuck a duck".)

What is the most disturbing part of this is that I can't get back to sleep again. Any kind of sleeplessness is highly unusual for me; I can sleep anywhere, anytime. But something about the nasal honking of hundreds of ducks (with maybe a couple of screaming seagulls thrown in) gives me anxiety. They sound...French.

(Uh, nothing against the french, of course. Though if thousands of them converged on the lake in the wee hours of the morning, I probably wouldn't be pleased either.)

I complained at work this morning and got informed that they were returning from their winter migration. So I guess they all have to talk about their vacation? Whether they got the all-inclusive or just did the hostel thing?

Do they have to do it at 3am, though?

I asked hubby if he would mind slaughtering the ducks on his way home from work. He works the night shift and he's driving right past there; it's not like it would be out of his way. He said he'd consider it, and then on his way out the door he said, "So what am I doing on the way home? Hitting ducks with the car?"

Because I'm not tired ENOUGH, now I have to lay awake worrying about whether he's going to drive our car into the lake while trying to be chivalrous.

Inconsiderate fucking ducks.