Ladies And Gentlemen... DUCKS

Back to Memphis again. Turns out the hotel we stay in is right across from the Famous Peabody Hotel. Know why this hotel is famous? If you said 'ducks,' you'd be right. And you could also probably read.

The story, as it was told to me, is thus: back in the olden days, like before TV even, some rich guy had a hotel built. And after a hunting trip from which he shot no ducks, his crappy hunting buddies put some live ducks in the expensive Italian marble fountain in the lobby to remind him that he shot no ducks. But people loved the ducks. And people who love ducks have money. So this rich bad shot found an ex-circus trainer to train the ducks to stay in the fountain, and eventually to march to it from the elevators. And so began the Peabody Ducks.
Who told me this? It was an emcee with a microphone, and he also told about two hundred gawkers at the same time, standing around in the hotel lobby at 10:56AM along with me:

After the story, he named two local VIPs 'duckmasters,' and had them go up the elevator. And when they came back down at eleven sharp (complete with timpani drum roll), they had five ducks in tow. And these little flappy birds waddled down this red carpet with velvet ropes, to damn John Philip Souza, no less, and plopped into the fountain like they had good sense.

And apparently they stay there every day until five, when they retire back up the elevator.
This is why I love America.