This morning, when I walked out of the parking garage at work, I was confronted by a mother duck and eight ducklings, just hanging out together on in the middle of Cambridge.

I called Husband and told him of my find. “Are they named Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, and Quack?” he asked.

“They’re standing on a curb, and I’m afraid they’re going to waddle into the street and get run over,” I said.

“Why don’t you call Officer Clancy?” he said oh so helpfully.

The mama duck looked very confused, as though she had taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque. The funny thing is that the ducks were only about half a mile from the island near the Longfellow Bridge where the ducklings in the book make their original home. They had traveled in the opposite direction from the Public Garden, though.

Am I the only person in the Boston area who is not that fond of Make Way for Ducklings? I find the back-ing and forth-ing of the ducks kind of confusing. They visit and reject the Public Garden, then end up at some nameless island in the river, and then…why did they go back to the Public Garden again? Why not just set the whole thing at the Public Garden and contrive some other reason for the ducklings to cross the street?

Apparently I’m not the only one.