I told a lie today.

Actually, I told a lot of lies today. I began sowing the seeds of dishonesty long before daylight when I scattered two-dozen fibs of cork, pine and polystyrene. By daylight these lies clung to threads of honesty in fifteen feet of swift, navigable public waters. I covered myself with even more lies; both trademarked and hand painted. I even hid behind lies woven from strands of palmetto truths.

At 8:30 I see an old acquaintance. He’s usually aloof, when he is with a lady friend, but today he’s alone and has the wandering eye. The glance over his shoulder tells me that he’s interested in companionship even if the whole thing is a charade.

I continued the ruse by telling cocobolo lies about quality of faux company. He likes what he hears and quivers as he sets his wings into the wind and circles. I give him some quacked and grunted landing instructions; the only real truths I told all morning. He understood and glided to his death in the open gap between the cans and the mallards.

As I paddle out to retreive my meal, I think about my brethren that rely only truths to kill ducks; truths about shallow, quiet loafing in a golden corral - truths about lively companionship and the protection of armed patrols.

I’m glad they have their ways. I’m glad I have mine.