When a duck is not a duck.
I have a friend who told me a story of her childhood. It was a time she spent in Turkey, with a huge extended family. As a five year old she would ride around the local village on a beautiful grey horse. A child of great privilege, she enjoyed riding through the village and around surrounding farms. She was greatly envied by the other children as she rode past them. A happier little girl you could hardly imagine. When she would go to the city other members of her family would ask her how she liked the country life. She told them excitedly of the adventures she had on her wonderful horse. They would smile and probably laugh to themselves thinking those adventures were largely made up, although they weren't. To be so young, to have a horse that was the envy of all her friends, and to ride through villages and hillsides so freely was a young girls dream come true. Her friends numbered not only the local kids, but also the calves, goats and sheep, not to mention the cats in the village...