Memory #63

When I was 8 or 9, my family lived in a house with a kind of pond in the backyard. There was a family of ducks there, and the babies were so small. They looked so soft, and I wanted to touch one. Every time they started to come close to me, though, their mother chased them back away from me. I picked up a rock and threw it at the mom. I knew that was a bad idea, but I did it anyway. Then, the mom started hissing. She spread out her wings and started walking quickly towards me. I ran, screaming, all the way back to my house.