On the highway coming into town there's a strip of rubber blown from one of the those giant truck tires. It's been there for a couple of weeks, perched almost at the top of a hill, looking twisted and rubberish as you pass by.
Except when you see it coming up the hill. Then it looks like a duck.
A perfectly fine duck, an alive duck - possibly drunkenly wandering too far out of its pond? Every day I pass by, thinking things about Superman and t-ball (Why yes, the kids are in the back, how could you tell?) and get a shock when I see it.
That poor duck! It's going to get hit! Ack! Must swerve! Then...ohhhhh. And I call myself all sorts of a twit and drive on.
This morning I was a few minutes early, so I stopped and prepared to kick it into the underbrush.
Aiming, I was startled by a voice coming from a car behind me:
"Hey, what are you doing to that bird?"