A Fascinating Duck


Fascinating Duck

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

A Fascinating Duck




What can be so fascinating about a duck?

A most interesting duck met me today!

She looked average, an every day, garden-variety duck.  She had a wide body; not fat, not skinny, looking just right to me.  She probably weighed ten to fifteen pounds. Shades of brown with green and white feathers around her long neck and a large head graced her body. All of this made her a very interesting duck.

She had to be a duck because I’d seen pictures of ducks and this duck looked identical to them.  At the zoo were many ducks, and my family had been there with me, as well.

It wasn’t too surprising to see her.  She was at the right place, where lots of ducks gather. 

You could be thinking, “Why are you telling me this?”

You also might wonder why I keep calling duck ‘she.’ Don’t know an answer to that, this duck just looked like a she. And…

She acted strangely, that’s why.  She kept looking back and forth toward the lake and me, while quacking wildly!

Hi there Duck,” I called cheerfully, with a wide grin on my face.  I thought it would make her happy if I looked happy.

Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack,” she quackily replied loudly!

You seem upset.  Are you all right? I asked.

“Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack,” she responded.  Again, she kept looking at the lake and back to me.

Whatever’s wrong must be by or in the lake,” I thought.  “Come on, Duck, let’s go see what it is.”

She acted much calmer waddling along beside me.  It felt good helping a duck in distress!

We walked some distance.  So I thought it might be helpful if I sang a duck song.

I sang, hoping the music would calm her.

Little Ducky Wuddle

Went wading in a puddle,

Went wading in a puddle

Quite small.

Said she, “It doesn’t matter

How much I splash and splatter,

I’m only a ducky

After all.”

That seemed to calm her a little bit.

“Wow, you really liked that one didn’t you?” 

I’ll sing it again.  Wish you could sing it with me!”

No response, so…

I sang again,

Little Ducky Wuddle

Went wading in a puddle,

Went wading in a puddle

Quite small.

Said she, “It doesn’t matter

How much I splash and splatter,

I’m only ducky

After all.”

We were almost at the lake.  Obviously, she didn’t want to be there.  She became more and more nervous with each step we took.  She slowed her waddling.  It seemed as though she wanted to return to where we started.

At the edge of the water, I looked around trees by the lake or flew in the sky.  Three geese splashed water at each other.  I couldn’t see anything that would be so upsetting to my friend, Ducky.

What is it? I asked her.  I don’t see anything unusual to upset you so.”

Just then, she began quacking loud and long, much louder than before!

Okay, Okay,” I said patiently. 

“I know you see or sense something, but I don’t see it yet.”

But she had seen the water move.  Now I saw a form moving toward us from the center of the lake.

“What is it?” I wondered.

“Could it be a Loch Ness monster?  Surely not here in our Florida lake!” 

These silent thoughts kept from alarming my friend Duck.

The clear water in the lake allowed me to see the object coming closer. 

An alligator!  No wonder Duck’s excitement reached fever pitch!

You’re right,” I stated.  “Alligators need to have our healthy respect.  I don’t want to be in water around them.   But, I also know they can be easily frightened.

Flap your wings and splash like those geese over there, that ole gator won’t bother you at all.”

Quack, quack, quack,” she honked.

I waved my arms, yelling and splashing water in the direction of the alligator.   He turned and started gliding toward the opposite shore!  Duck and I breathed a sigh of relief! 

She looked up at me with heavy ducky eyes and went, “Quack, quack.”

It sounded very much like “thank you” to me.

I smiled at her and said affectionately, “You’re very welcome, Duck.  Let me know if I can help you again.  I come here often. Maybe we’ll see each other soon.”

Another duck waddled toward us.  They seemed to know the each other and moved closer.  “My” duck kept looking back at me, as she quacked and quacked.

I know she told her friend the entire story! 

Authors Note:

This story gave me the idea for Glitzy Series, an adventurous rabbit who gets into more jams than a bowl full of jello.

They’ll be arriving soon!

Overactive Imagination Can Be a Good Thing, Or Can It?


Laura Manning, Movie Star

Photo by Ricardo Augusto on Pexels.com

What Do You Do When Meeting a Movie Star in Your Hometown?

Make a good impression.

Give her a key to the city.

Don’t fumble your words during your speech.

Julie tried as hard as she could to remember all the rules and her lines. Her cousin Ellen sat beside her on the stage, so near the woman they both admired, they could almost reach their arms out and touch her .

Nerves jingling, they tried to stay composed. That being almost impossible, their bright smiles helped them look confident.

She looked soooo gorgeous, much more so than in the movies. How could anyone be so beautiful?

Julie’s thoughts raced as she tried to look composed, and not-at-all nervous.

Mayor Gordon droned on and on.

“Will he never stop talking?” Julie thought, as she winced and squirmed in her seat.

Startling her as he said,

Now, two ladies have something to say to you, Miss Manning.”

He gestured toward Julie and Carol. They smiled, and nodded their heads. The two girls stood, still smiling, and walked to the front of the stage.

Mayor Gordon looked confused when he saw both girls approaching.

“Are you both going to talk at once?”

He turned toward the audience, shrugged and chuckled. They followed his laugher, a little uncomfortably.

Julie, not wanting to be upstaged, turned to him and gently took the microphone from him. Then said,

“No, Mayor Gordon, I’ll be talking today. Ellen came with me because she helped make the Key to the City. That’s why she’s here on the stage as we present the Key to Miss Manning.”

“Oh, I see. Well, here she is and there you are. So, I’ll have a seat to watch.”

Mayor Gordon bowed and went toward the chairs behind them.

Julie and Ellen looked at Laura Manning, indicating with outstretched hands,that she join them at the rostrum.

Audience members all gazed in admiration as the gorgeous movie star walked slowly toward her two glowing fans.

When all three faced each other, Julie began her speech. In a clear voice, she first thanked Laura for coming to Central City for the Festival.

As Julie said this, Ellen reached under the stand to produce the wooden key. Julie continued,

“Our brother fathers work with wood, and made this key for you. We present our Key to Central City to you. We hope you’ll remember your time with us and that they made this key especially to honor your visit here.”

Laura accepted the key. She turned to the microphone and graciously said,

“How wonderful! Thank you both and your dads for making this wooden key for me. I will always remember this day and my visit here. I feel deeply honored.”

During this presentation, security stationed behind the audience kept a close watch on a mysterious person in a raincoat with collar pulled up and sunglasses.

The sunglasses weren’t too unusual, for the bright sunny day made them necessary. However, the raincoat with pulled-up collar in near 80 degree weather, looked suspiciou.

“Let’s help Laura go back to her trailer with all of this stuff,” said Ellen. All this stuff meant both the large wooden key and three dozen roses Mayor Gordon gave to Laura on behalf of the city.

“What a wonderful idea!” Laura remarked, having heard what Ellen said.

Laura’s trailer, parked fifty feet behind the stage, seemed not far enough to need this, Ellen thought. But helping Laura gave them more time to talk with her.

Children’s Storybook


Children Love Books

Photo by mentatdgt on Pexels.com

These stories were written as assignments for a course in Children’s Literature from the Institute of Children’s Literature, Redding Ridge, Connecticut.

Each story was critiqued by a published author. I wrote them during my mother’s illness and after her death in the time frame 1981- 1984. Since that time, other stories were written and added to the storybook.

My wish to write stories children enjoy so much, they want to read them to their own children. Stories like VELVETEEN RABBIT, GOODNIGHT MOON, BLACK BEAUTY, PETER RABBIT…the list is endless.

Writing stories for children fulfills the longing in my heart for the children I never had. Teaching provided much interaction with youngsters. However, they left me at the end of each day. The children returned home to their own mothers.

GLITZY’S ADVENTURES, a wild rollicking rabbit, has my attention now. We’ll learn more of her excitingly daring life in future episodes.

She could be reading and coloring.

Photo by bruce mars on Pexels.com

by JGKipp

Pen Name of Judith Norris



Snoopy’s Doghouse


Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

GOD In The Trees

Temple of the Tall Trees

Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

Growing Pains

New Tap Shoes!

Photo by Daianne Gomes on Pexels.com

Front Page News

Gazette News?

Photo by Lina Kivaka on Pexels.com

A Bird’s Eye View

Chirping High, Low. and In-Between!

by Pixabay on Pexels.co

Gonzo, Mysterious Disappearing Cat


Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.c

Hopper-Grass In A Jar

Hopper-Grass, Are You There?

Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com

Gonzo, Mysterious Disappearing Cat



Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

As I drove my car out of the garage one morning, in the tree beside the driveway I saw a familiar tabby cat.

“Good morning, Gonzo,” I said aloud.

Gonzo, a cat who belongs to a family down the street, looked at me with sleepy eyes, and turned away.

“He has no interest in me this morning,” I thought.

Usually friendly and affectionate with me, Gonzo must sense I love cats. We have no animals for my husband’s allergic to flea bites. I’m extra happy to find a friendly neighbor’s cat.

Gonzo’s a large cat, mixed up black, brown, gray, and white, known as a tabby. His yellow, lazy looking eyes and large body remind me of Morris the Cat on TV.

The other day, Gonzo squeezed himself into Ginger’s car, sitting on the street in the sun. A window had been left open a few inches. We’ll never know how Gonzo managed to get through that small space. But he did.

All afternoon, Ginger couldn’t find him. He wasn’t in sight anywhere. He didn’t even come for his food. Gonzo disappeared for hours regularly, so she didn’t feel alarmed.

Meanwhile, afternoon turned into evening. Ginger’s husband, John, came home from work, and they had dinner. As they washed the dishes. Ginger glanced out the window. Streetlight and shadows caused her to see a strange movement in her car. She asked John to investigate.

Brave John ventured outside into the chilly night air to discover the truth. Ginger followed, staying close behind. Warmed by sunshine through daylight hours, the car grew chilly once the sun went down. Gonzo also awoke from his long afternoon nap.

“Meow!” Gonzo cried, when John opened the car door.

“He must be hungry” said Ginger. “How did he get in there?

I don’t know,” replied John. “But he couldn’t get back out.”

“Meow!” said Gonzo.

“Hi folks, where’s my food,” he seemed say.

by JGKipp

Pen Name of Judith Norris

Written as an example for reading/writing students at Skyview Elementary School in Pinellas Park, Florida.

A Bird’s Eye View


Mama Rabbit and Babs.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Some days, I don’t understand these rabbits. They do not make any sense to me. But then, what do I know? I’m only a bird, a little brown bird.

All I can do is chirp. I chirp high. I chirp low. I chirp loud. I chirp soft. I chirp pretty songs. There are times when I like to chirp little nothings. I can even chirp important things if I want others to know something.

I know a lot about what’s happening around me. I know especially about that family of rabbits who live in the house beside my favorite tree.

Mama Rabbit, so kind and nice to me. Her family’s polite and usually pleasant to each other. They think good thoughts of all the animals in Farmer Johnson’s woods. Mama’s such a god mother. She wouldn’t hurt a bird, or a flea, or anything.

You surely know someone just like her. She keeps her home spotless. She washes and irons their clothes, even puts them away. She takes excellent care of the family. She cooks delightful, sniff goodies to smell.

A few days ago, I sat in my tree singing my favorite song. It’s the one with the pretty melody we birds like to sing. It goes like this: Tweet, tweety, tweet, two, tweet, tweety, tweet two. It’s a pretty song to sing and hear. The Rabbit family likes to hear that one. Mama Rabbit’s my favorite fan.

Anyway, I was sitting on my tree branch singing away. I got a whiff of blueberry pie. It must have just come out of the oven. It smelled so fresh and tasty that I thought my chirper would pop!

Mama always puts her pies on the windowsill after she takes them out of the oven. Papa Rabbit and sister Babs waited patiently nearby, so they could be first to have a slice of pie. It takes quite a while for pie to get cool enough to eat. They’re willing to wait, for Mama’s bakes the best pies in the world.

Brown bird watching!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Older brother, Rab, just could not wait. He didn’t want the pie for himself. I overheard the guys talking as I flew past the clubhouse. They were making that part of his initiation to become a member.

He had to snatch the pie from the windowsill to share it with the other members. They became hungrier every time the breeze blew.

I saw Rab creep up to the house. How would he ever sneak that pie with Papa nearby? Rab knew how wrong it was to steal Mama’s e. He probably thought they would surely forgive him when they knew why he did it.

Rabbits can be quiet and sneaky. Their ability to take things is well known. Rab crept around the house. Ever so gently lifted the pie from the windowsill…

And took off!

Only I saw him.

Chirping loud and long, I tried to alarm the family.

By the time Mama noticed my racket and looked up…

Rab ran across the yard. He clutched the snatched pie to share with his buddies in the clubhouse.

by JGKipp

Pen Name of Judith Norris

Snoopy’s Doghouse



Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Snoopy’s always been a down-to-earth type of guy, er…dog, to me. His exploits gave me much happy reading for many years. It’s easy to tell how much he loves people and other critters.

Entering the wrought iron gate, hidden by the false front doghouse door, a curlicue flanked by two lanterns. Swinging open the gate, reveals a charming Oriental garden with a Ming tree and small pond, an elite birdbath shaped like an Oriental temple. Gardenia bushes add elegance and fabulous fragrance when they’re in bloom.

Enough of that. What goes on in Snoopy’s doghouse?

Snoopy’s a free spirit. He loves relaxing, kicking back, and indulging his artistic side. His spacious large living room enhanced by high ceilings, focuses on his grand piano. A shiny, burled mahogany antique 1903 Knabe parlor grand sits on a Kermin Oriental rug in shades of ivory, pale blue, and rose.

Snoopy spends hours playing Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart. He loves classical composers. Even though, he still swings out with Scott Joplin and Irving Berlin.

Other favorites include reading and watching an occasional movie with one of the gang or his wife Kitty. Snoopy and Kitty have intimate dinner parties with a few friends. They like to cook Mexican or his mean pot of chili.

Ho-hum you say?

He’s quite a dancer singer, and actor. Fond memories of a trip to San Francisco in 1965 where Gary Burghoff portrayed Snoopy. Gary sang and danced his way into my heart with an energetic rendition of “Suppertime.” Snoopy holds a huge place in my heart always. The pleasure of designing his living space honored me.

This Snoopy’s Doghouse design project was a class assignment. It was great fun!

by JGKipp

Pen name of Judith Norris

Hopper-Grass In A Jar


Use your imagination!

Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán on Pexels.com

Knowing that I abhor and am terrified of yucky crawling critters (bugs for short,) my sweetheart husband agreed to help me by collecting one. He teased me that it would be a palmetto bug or a roach. I prepared myself for the unpleasant task.

Happily, he has an aversion to smelling Raid. He knows I spray it liberally when I see a roach. Fortunately, I didn’t communicate my thoughts to study a roach in a jar. I shiver at the thought.

So, I ended up watching an energetic baby grasshopper and an old, tired cricket. A cricket with one crooked antennae. That one straightened out and the other became crooked.

He held something in his mouth by using his antennae. He gobbled merrily away at something too small for me to tell what it was or had been.

My attention turned to the hopper-grass, a name used by students in Virginia. He attempted crawling up the side of the jar. Too steep and slippery, he walked around the edge as though trying to find a way out.


By creeping, going at it slowly, he managed to get up half an inch. But , he fell back down.

Meanwhile, his buddy decided to take a cricket nap on a twig. Sweet dreams, cricket buddy. You two have provided me an interesting fifteen minutes.

I’m happy my kind husband found both of you instead of roach or palmetto bug!