The rumors are true. I almost got arrested yesterday. Last night was a good friend’s birthday. My roommates and I wanted to give her an original birthday gift, a gift what would go down in history. We began to brainstorm what type of present we could get her that would be unique, memorable and yet achievable. One of my roommates shocked us all with his brilliant idea. Our friend’s favorite animal is a duck. We decided that since she likes ducks so much we would get her one. We headed off to the south side of BYU campus. There, at the bottom of a huge hill we encountered our prey. We began to lure them in with chunks of delicious “Grandma Sycamores” bread. The ducks came in droves. Nobody can resist Granny Sycamore. I was armed with a large laundry bag, and my roommate had a big blanket that we planned on using as a net. As the ducks approached, I got my bag ready and made a dash for the birds. I missed by inches and scared the host of ducks away in a flutter of wings. After the first failure, we had the difficult task of regaining the duck’s confidence. We used half of a loaf of bread to accomplish this, but that half was worth it. Within a half hour, we had the ducks within capturing range once again. This time, my roommate went for them with his blanket. Yet again, they escaped (I guess you have to be smarter than a duck to catch a duck.) By this time, it was getting cold and our friend’s party was half over. We decided that the duck was no longer worth the praise we would receive as a result of it’s capture. On the way back to the care we heard the officer.
“Gentlemen!” he yelled.
I looked up and saw the dark silhouette of a slightly overweight campus police officer. I quietly yet urgently whispered to my cohorts, “Guys, get in the car.”
“Gentlemen!” came the voice once again.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” I urged to them. My roommates and I nonchalantly drifted toward the car pretending not to have heard the officer’s summons.
“Gentlemen, stay where you are!” the officer bellowed.
By this time, everyone but myself had made it safely into the car. After the third shout, however, I knew that we would be in for trouble if we did not pay attention to him. I stayed where I was and sighed under my breath, “Great.” I then looked up at the chubby campus policeman. “Yes officer?”
“What are you doing?” He asked us as if it weren’t obvious.
“Just feeding the ducks.” I replied.
“That’s not what it looks like to me. It looks like you were trying to capture the ducks.”
“Oh…” I replied.
I heard the static of his radio as he proceeded to report us in. “We’ve got a 40-40 here. Some kids are trying to capture some ducks.” He then made eye contact with me and asked, “Did you know that’s a citable offense?”
“No, I had no idea… do you know if it’s only citable here on campus, or is it citable all over the valley?”
The officer didn’t look too pleased with my response. “If they aren’t your ducks, don’t catch them.” He stated flatly.
“Wait, that doesn’t make sense. How can I own a duck if I can’t catch one?”
“Buy one.” Replied the officer.
“Are you serious?” I asked in a shocked tone. “You can buy ducks? Where?”
“Online. You buy them as chicks, and they grow into ducks. What did you want a duck for anyway?”
At this point, my roommates had rolled down their windows and were listening to the banter between myself and the campus patrolman. My roommate answered the officer’s question with perfect timing. “They’re good eatin’!” he shouted.
I think that for a moment the officer really believed that we were trying to catch ducks because we were starving college students. I smacked my friend over the head and told the officer that my roommate was an idiot. The authority then proceeded to question us until he had obtained all of our information and informed us that if we were caught ‘duck catching’ again, we would be cited.
Some may think that our encounter with the police officer was pure happenstance. I, however, know that it wasn’t. I have seen history repeat itself enough times to know that whenever I do something even slightly contrary to what is morally expected of me, I get caught. If I watch a questionable movie, my mother is bound to walk in on the most risque scene. If I eat dessert before dinner, my hand will be caught in the cookie jar. If I check my e-mail at work, my boss is bound to be looking over my shoulder. When we began our duck catching endeavor, I had that nagging feeling that regardless of the selfless intentions of finding a stellar birthday present for our friend, we would be seen by the wrong person at the wrong time, and most likely be punished. Such is my luck. The noble intents of my heart get me into far more complex predicaments than anyone I know.
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