I work for a TV network which is housed on a movie lot in LA. It’s a wonderful place to work, although we rarely have either of the types of moments most associated with movie lots: groups of costumed gladiators and nuns scurrying down the street to a soundstage, or people doing blow off the hitch of a makeup trailer.

 What we do have is ducks.

Last year, a group of cute brown ducks decided that the pond in front of the network’s headquarters building was a desirable location in which to relocate, and they promptly moved in.

Mama duck, who is either really accommodating or a common street whore, began popping out babies like there was a conveyor belt in her va-j-j. The babies began charming the employees – me included – with their fluffy little bodies and their adorable waddle.

And then, as these sweet little ducklings became full-fledged ducks, they became something else entirely.


A condo was built on the pond to shelter the family, but they decided that the entire lot was now their backyard, and they began waltzing back and forth between the film studio headquarters – where they would, as the mood struck them, either dine or bathe – and the TV network building. This necessitated that a (human) security guard be stationed in between to insure that no one runs over the darling little beasts.

Then they began s***ing everywhere. Uncontent to confine their defecation to fouling the waters of the pond, they decided to leave their gifts along the walkways leading to and from the building. (Perhaps this was some kind of veiled comment on our programming – everyone’s a critic.)

This week, they’ve taken their insouciance to a whole new level. Small gangs of them have begun planting themselves in front of the doors with a menacing look, like a group of alleyway thugs. This is obviously some kind of gang initiation, and one can only imagine what they plan to do once they get their little webbed feet on us. I’ve taken to leaving the building from the side exit.  

I generally LOVE animals. But why, I ask you, couldn’t they have stayed young, and adorable, and remembered their place?

 This must be what it’s like to have teenagers.