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I read a story once about a farmer in southern Louisiana who captured a mallard duck and tied it with a cord to a stake at the edge of a pond. Through the winter the mallard swam around with the domestic ducks and even ate from the hand of the farmer. When Spring came, all of the other wild ducks that had wintered in that area. Began to fly toward the north. When those flocks arose, they saws the mallard duck down below on the pond. They called to him from the sky. All the other domesticated ducks did not hear or see, nor raise their eyes to look. They just swam in complacency on the farmer’s pond. But when the mallard heard the call, he lifted up his head, and then his wings and tried to fly. But he couldn’t. Again and again, he strained to move upward as the flocks flew overhead, calling to him. Finally, he broke lose and flew skyward, joining the journey home.