Ken started on the course early Sunday morning. With the sun slowly rising, illuminating the tiny droplets of dew covering the greens and fairways, Ken adjusted his cap on his neatly trimmed dark brown hair, stretched his long arms, placed his lengthy frame in position to address the ball, and hit his first tee shot. His swing connected beautifully but, alas, he had overcompensated for his nagging slice and severely hooked the ball. Ken watched his ball sail well out to the right until he lost sight of it as it peaked behind the tree line separating the first and ninth fairways.
“Quaaack!” Ken heard as he picked up his clubs. “I must have hit a duck over there,” he thought.
Since he went out as a single in the early mornings, he didn’t have to wait for other members of a foursome. He walked through the tree line and halfway down the ninth fairway following the flight path of his ball. He spotted the ball lying atop the single mound in the center of the fairway and looked around but couldn’t find any obvious evidence of the duck he thought the ball struck in flight. Continue reading