My name is Juju, and this is my story.
So there I was, minding my own bizness, when one day, Mama disappeared. Confused, I wandered off and even dodged cars in the middle of the road. I got chased by a hawk. It sucked.
Then, some complete strangers adopted me. It was definitely nap time.
The strangers gave me a sweet pad—apparently this crib belonged to some Babe named "Barbie". Whatevs—it was better than sleeping on the floor.
Of course, when I got older, my folks insisted I wear a diaper inside the house. (Where do you get a diaper for a duck? duckdiaper.com Duh.) This one is much too big for me—but eventually I grew up so that you couldn’t even see that I was wearing it.
Even when I was a toddler, I always spotted danger right away. No hawks or foxes for me.
Here’s me with mah peeps. My "Dad" was going to call me "l’Orange". Nice.
Learning to fly was sweet. Yeah, so I had problems getting down from the roof. It happens to lots of ducks.
Eventually, I moved outside of the house into like, nature and stuff. Then I sent these photos into C.O. [wings tap on keyboard]
Nice work, Juju and Kee H.