The Ducks That Wouldn't Eat - (FD, LBE)

Deep in the Endless Mountains that are called the Poconos in Pennsylvania, there is a country inn that my Grandparents used to visit for a long weekend, once a year, year after year after year. It was their special place - and no, it wasn't for them to get away from us or from it all - it was for family gatherings - and a time for all of us to share with each other the fresh mountain air - the quiet stillness of the mornings - the greenness of the forests - the babbling of the brooks - walking and hiking, complete with picnics, along the wooded trails and some mighty fine evening dining and very comfortable beds.

That inn was the Sterling Inn, run by the Logan family with whom my grandparents were on first-name basis. I say "was" because, although the Inn is still there and is still running - the Logans have passed on and rumor has it, the Inn no longer lives up to the standards it set when the Logan's owned the place. A sad passing - I am, in a way, glad my grandparents will never know about it though.


The narrow wooden walking bridge over the creek behind the Inn

For those of you not familiar with the Poconos, here is a map showing where the Inn located.

I've a great many pleasant memories of the place... There was a game room with a ping pong table - a miniature golf - putting course on the front lawn - and a pond that had some leaky paddle boats. While my brothers and I would go and play golf in the afternoons - my grandparents would go shopping in the many little country gift, antique and general stores that dotted the Poconos then, and even more so now.

And the food! Each evening, having donned diner jackets and knotted our ties, admittedly with grumbles of protest, my brothers and I would enter the dining room, spot our grandparents waiting patiently for us at a table, quickly get seated and dive in!

It was simple but hearty fare after a day out in the fresh air - Prime ribs.. juicy turkey... honey'ed ham, potatoes, and nicely cooked vegetables (something that we didn't get home since my Mom always cooked vegetables into mush because my Dad liked them that way) followed by desserts of every sort and kind imaginable! No one ever left the table less than completely stuffed.


After my older brother got married - he and his wife (my new Sister-in-law) came to the Sterling Inn for the first time together later that summer. At that time that year, there was an annual carved decoy and waterfowl festival - and the pond at the Inn was used to float some of the prize winning ducks.

Now, my new Sister-in-law, having hurried into the dining room got a glimpse of the ducks in the pond - hurrying past them because she had just learned my family members are all punctuality freaks and we mean it when we say we won't wait for you - decided to take some of the fresh baked bread out to feed the ducks after dinner was over. I am sure no one missed the bread - I think we might of had 3 loaves to ourselves (the 6 of us) - I do remember she ended up with a whole loaf.

Now, before I go on, I should point out my new Sister-in-law wore glasses when she thought no one was looking, like late in the evenings while reading in bed and she went to great lengths to make sure that no one knew she wore glasses... So she was a little, shall we say "disadvantaged visually" during and after dinner, because of her own silly vanity. Goodness knows she would have fit right in with my family wearing glasses - there were and are none of us without them.


At any rate, we all left the dining room and groaning under the load of full stomachs, went out to see the prize winning decoys... the wooden ducks... the ducks that my Sister-in-law was dead set on feeding. While the rest of us sat in the comfortable pond-side chairs, she broke the loaf of bread into pieces and tossed them to the unmoving, uncaring and quite unhungry ducks.

My brothers, grandparents, and I all broke out into roaring laughter when, nearly in tears, she turned to us and said, "Something is really wrong! Those poor ducks must be really, really sick! They won't move or eat! Should we tell Mr. Logan to call someone for help?!?" After several minutes of trying to regain his composure, my older brother took pity on her and told her the ducks were carved from wood and would never have an appetite. My Sister-in-law learned another thing about her "new family" that day - and that was how much we enjoy a good laugh at practically any expense.