I just finished writing it and thought it was hilarious. It's short and so very true. There is a lesson to be learned here, not sure what it is but I know it's in there somewhere. rad on:

Soon, I found the need to do what nature calls for but I didn’t want to paddle all the way to the shore and get out of the kayak. You have to remember, I was lazy and didn’t want to do much more than I was already doing: as little as possible. I spotted a sandbar nearby, I was almost at river center, so I paddled ran kayak up on top of it and pulled back my skirt. I stood up inside the cockpit and unzipped. I was a little wobbly standing there trying to hang over the edge of the cockpit but I managed to start what men do well. While I was in the middle of relieving a very full bladder this Mallard duck came up to me and decided that I was too darned close to her babies. Now I know I was here first and that damned duck brought her babies into my space: I wasn’t gonna move for anybody. Besides, my position was compromising and stopping midstream was just not in the equation. The mallard momma started squawking up a very noisy storm while flopping around the water to lure me away. Well, I said that I wasn’t going anywhere, you know, and I did look to see if anyone might be watching me before I stood up and started adding my bit to the river. I thought I would be able to return what I removed from the river in peace and alone, very alone. Thanks to this irritated duck my thinking changed from the wonderful feelings of relief to wondering if there was anyone in sight now making a video of me. If there wasn’t now, all that damned duck noise was making was certainly going to attract their attention sooner or later. When I finished, the duck was still squawking away at me. I exercised great patience in carefully zipping up so as not to catch anything I might think painful later on, sitting down in the cockpit, doing up my spray skirt, taking one final look at the hills surrounding the amphitheatre I just whizzed upon stage center, seemed to see no witnesses, then shoved the kayak off the sandbar and made my way downstream. I did try to paddle further to one side since my urine was probably gonna follow me along until the river diluted it beyond my sense of smell. The mallard’s squawking grew quieter as I moved away from her. Sometimes I have to look more carefully when I need to take care of some of my more private concerns, and that includes avoiding various kinds of wildlife, especially the territorial kind.
After that minor adventure, I found myself needing to talk a little. I realized my need when I discovered that I was unconsciously talking to cows that were standing on the river bank as I passed by. I started singing little ditties to myself and humming the songs for which I did not know the words. When I passed the Highway 21 Bridge, I knew I was doing good time despite being pretty lazy about paddling.

Robert N(ot a Duck Whisperer) Pruden