Here's one for my ducks,

For their hugs, 

For their love,

For their patience with my misunderstandings,

For the superheroes that fly. 

He's more than a quack,

More than a philosopher of fake concoctions;

For when the stenches come,

They're sloppy,

And so hard to clean,

But I love him still.

He's more than a breathtaking beast, 

Gifted with flight,

And the ability to dive deep;

An impossible rival to beat,

In the seas.

He's a clown,

A proud player of butts up,

Neck deep in the reeds.

He's more than a bird,

To be shot in the month of May,

A wounded prize,

An afternoon.

Nah,

He's my bro,

And I don't believe you'd want yours dead too.

His name's Croco,

And he eats everything, 

His bill can browse;

Worms in dirt,

Wild mice,

What a lovely surprise.

The other's Odile,

The ladies drake,

A typical farm flirt,

Always caked in mud;

The sexiest charm.

Yeah,

Those two,

They're my mates,

They're my family,

They're mine.