I waited, indecisive whether I should turn back. Ducks were escaping, flying frantically in all directions. Suddenly, one of the ducks hit the ground thirty meters before me.
I looked around. No hunter in sight. The duck tried to flee by foot. I ran after it, water entered my boots as I stepped into the flooded meadow and grabbed it. I love eating duck. I must be blessed by the gods today, I thought.
No more ducks fell from the sky where I stood, although I could see a few fall closer to where the hunters must have been. I waited until the shots ceased, and walked on with the dead duck in my backpack. What a lucky day!
Then, a few of the hunters passed me, laden with ducks. I asked them whether it was safe to walk in the direction where they had been shooting. They affirmed. I congratulated them for their numerous catch. They laughed and one of them said, “here, take some. Your dinner is sorted!”, handing me four ducks.
As I continued my hike with two heavy ducks in each hand, I strongly felt: “The gods love me. How wonderful is the world! How generous are these people, sharing their catch with me.”
There will be other days when life is a struggle again, when I will have to fight for every inch. But in this moment I know:
The gods love me - how could I ever doubt that?
