DUMB AS A ROCK DUCK

I learned a bit this last winter about the mating habits of males. Yes, I’m older than dirt and still learning. About mating habits anyway.
First there was a local story about a male duck that had become enamored of a concrete lawn ornament. Usually, lawn ducks are just decorations that occasionally get dressed by their owners/guardians in raincoats and other foppish finery. This one was not attired, but must have been, unfortunately, so shaped as to resemble a curvaceous female duck or whatever passes as sexually enticing to male ducks
The male duck guarded his intended very jealously and lest you think this could not be all that serious, the story goes on to say that at one point no fewer than 7 people including members of the sheriff’s department were all standing in the kitchen having been shooed there by the avian lover.
The resolution of the above story is not germane to my point so let’s leave them all in the kitchen while I go on to the next which was a television show about some prairie bird, a grouse I think. A female investigator had rigged up a fake female grouse to ride along a miniature track, which was laid out to hopefully interest and include notice by the wild grouse population through which she had routed the track, while she filmed from a blind. The fake, track-duck also had a camera atop her to better film the goings on.
Many were the setbacks for our intrepid, young investigator all caught on film, or tape or whatever medium for yucks. The imitation female grouse’s head could be swiveled by remote control allowing her to fix her beady eyes on other grouse. Perhaps I’m making this up, but there may have been the grouse form of booty shake robotically added also. As our little miss grouse rolled along her track her booty shaking provocatively to the tune of Saturday Night Fever, male grouse were moved to fits of passion for , , , one of the rocks that littered the prairie. One male in particular tried his hardest, no pun intended, to ignite the passion of this rock. Do I have to add that it was to no avail? Meanwhile our heroine tumped over on her track, still filming albeit in a confusing, horizontal direction as the rest of the males ignored her, while the one still continued laying siege to the rock.
I just thought these two instances to be so typical of male hormones at work that the stories have stuck with me. And they go a long way in my understanding as to why, when my femininity ‘bloomed’ out years ago, some males found even me attractive. They eventually got over it, but until this last winter when both of those stories caught my attention, I never really connected it to me. Truth is out, and truth is that males will try to f*ck anything. ANYTHING!
If you don’t want to fish, don’t bait the hook was the saying of our day and my hook was never baited. I did everything I could to not draw male interest. Didn’t work. I might as well have been a stone lawn ornament.