My love for my adopted ducks is no secret, but even I'm a little take aback by the intensity with which I defended them.

Yesterday, in an attempt to save one of my mallard hens from the jaws of death, I rushed to her defense without thinking of my own safety. I squeezed my to-go cup so hard, the Styrofoam collapsed and my medium Coke exploded on my hair. It's important to note that I was arriving home from New Creation's where my boo, Katie Kunkle-Hays had finished working on my coiffure just moments before.

I threw my phone across the yard and began beating my dog with my three bags of Taco Casa their repeated contact with the wet grass eventually caused a bag to tear. With no more burritos at my disposal, I picked Petey's 90-pound flesh up with my Ramen noodle arms and my precious duck flew free from the clutches of my grounded dog's mouth.

The fear I experienced in that adrenaline rush wasn't fully realized until I made my way to the front door to deliver my family their dinner in battered bags that hung limply from my hand.

I shuffled toward the front door in a state of shock from being in my own National Geographic episode, and my world was shaken once more as tragedy finally claimed her victim: me.

I shared my experience with my co-host Scott Shepherd and Jade Nicole from our sister station on WTUG:

Here are some pictures of the aftermath:

What was once 'Beefy Nachos' is now 'Lskbaiulasdvadjcvnjavwrawbvsdnva' ...

Remnants of grass and cheese-splatter from the beating...


One lonely, mild taco burger (meat and cheese only)...

k. Madison

Obviously in my fragile state, I simply left the Styrofoam cup where it fell after exploding on my head. I took this a day after:


I squeezed the cup really, really hard.

Here's another angle:

Research on why one soils themselves when under extreme duress provided several theories, but none were conclusive.

At the end of the day, the only certainty I'm left with is that I wet my pants.