After weeks of campus chaos brought about by divine poultry intervention, University of New Mexico President Garnett Stokes reversed her decision on the ducks’ exile to UNM Championship Golf Course. The ducks will soon return to the Duck Pond on main campus.
Quackses, the former personal duck of Stokes, has emerged as a leader among the duck resistance. In protest of the new policy, Quackses waddled to Stokes’ desk outside Scholes Hall and presented his demands, which Stokes swiftly rejected.
“Let my ducklings go,” Quackses quacked to Stokes.
Following Stokes’ refusal to return the ducks, campus life began to unravel in 10 plaguing ways, with some claiming that the wrath of feathered providence was to blame. This is just a few of the incidents.
A great and terrible rupture in the plumbing system turned Johnson Field into a blood-red marsh.
Next, a caravan of school buses landed, unleashing an unholy swarm of high schoolers touring campus. They walked in horizontal lines, asked stupid questions and clogged every hallway.
“Mom, take a picture of me with the Lobo,” one tourist shrieked, their voice reminiscent of the trumpets of hell.
Next, students found themselves starving, with the typical lines at restaurants in the Student Union Building doubling and even tripling. One reasonable six-hour wait at Chick-Fil-A stretched into an eternity.
“I ordered a sandwich in August. It’s March,” one student said.
Without warning, every professor simultaneously assigned a never-ending group project. The groups were cursed: Members never responded to messages, deadlines mysteriously moved earlier and all work inexplicably disappeared.
On the final fury, as Quackses stood defiantly before Scholes Hall, a strange and terrible sound shook the heavens.
The Lobo Louie mascot suit, long thought to be a mere costume, began to move on its own. Then, from deep within its jaws, it let out a howl — a never-ending howl.
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At first, students shrugged it off. Then came hour two. Then hour six. By hour 12, the noise had driven students to madness.
After the furies subsided and Stokes surrendered, Quackses led his exiled flock home to the Duck Pond — but an insurmountable obstacle lay ahead: Central Avenue.
Cars raged like a mighty river and terrible smells spread. One student, who had been waiting at the crosswalk since November, guarded the street.
Quackses stepped forward, wings raised. The asphalt trembled. The lanes parted, revealing a clear path to the promised Duck Pond.
The ducks waddled through, followed by stunned students. As the last duck crossed, the road crashed shut, swallowing a stray scooter.
At the pond, Quackses stood upon a rock, lifted his beak and quacked:
"Let my ducklings go."
And it was good.
Nate Bernard is the news editor for the Daily Lobo. He can be reached at news@dailylobo.com or on X @natebernard14
Nate Bernard is the managing editor for the Daily Lobo. He can be reached at news@dailylobo.com or on X @natebernard14
