Ducks, by Willem Maris, c. 1880, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam

I have been complaining to some friends about the cold weather these days in York, even though some of the entries on this blog last month are about my "serious concerns" about the global "warming" issue.

I am just self-contradictory, I know.

This is typical British summer, some friends reminded me, chilly, rainy, harsh, and windy.
No, I defied this explanation, at least last year wasn't like this, I tried to argue, it was always sunny as far as I can remember.

But I don't have a right position to argue. It's only my second summer here in Britain.

There must be something wrong with my memory. The memory.

I should be very pleased about the fact that I only remember sunny days.
Bravo! the memory.

Earlier this month when it was still sunny and warm, all kinds of fowls were easily seen everywhere on campus. Goslings, cygnets, ducklings were busy exploring the world in the sun with excitement. These baby creatures have composed the most favorite touristy sight on the university campus, I suppose. These birds are indispensable to everyone's memory of York.

In addition to these innocent newborn, adult ducks' quack-quack is also unforgettable. (You can vaguely hear that in the background in the video clip too.)
I don't particularly like the sound, but it is indeed very impressive.

It is naughty, funny, scornful, straightforward, sophisticated, and scary, at least to me.

During a Latin class in the early spring of 2005, as I remember, we were reviewing some Latin conjugation and declension. While a coursemate was struggling to chant a string of suffixes, "laudo, laudas, laudat, lauda??, ...,.., mm...", a duck was quacking crazily non-stop outside the classroom.

As everyone was very nervous during the entire drill, the classroom was extremely quiet except the broken chant that the nervous boy tried to sing along.

The quacking was very sharp.

And the quack seemed never to stop.

At that tense moment, I couldn't help but let out a laugh.
The classroom was even more quiet.

It was very embarrassing as I wasn't at all laughing at the poor boy. I didn't mean it.
It's the crazy quack-quack.

It recalled to my mind the hysterical laughter of Stephen Chow, whose recent film, "Kung Fu Hustle", just swept the world. The quack was especially like the arrogant and high-pitch sound which Chow makes to scorn his opponents in his films.
I must have had imagined Chow's merciless face on that innocent(?) duck before that unforgiveable burst.

The quack sound is never kind.
Funny, but never kind, especailly in chilly days.