The Tale of Captain Quack Sparrow
Hear this, then.
In the backwaters of Middleburg, FL where Black Creek runs dark and slow, there lived a duck what weren’t content to bob and drift like the rest. He had one good eye, a scarred bill, and a mind always fixed on the horizon.
They called him Captain Quack Sparrow.
One foul night, with the moon hid and the water low, he cut loose and let Black Creek take him. He rode her twists and turns like a seasoned hand—through snag and shadow, past gators and ghosts, till fresh water gave way to salt and the wide mouth of Tampa Bay opened before him.
That’s where he found her.
The Islander.
Big. Loud. Hungry for trouble.
Quack Sparrow boarded quiet as a thief, swore no oath but his own, and set his course by the old pirate law:
Take no treasure.
Leave only legends.
So if you’ve got him now, count yourself lucky. You’ve crossed paths with a captain what sailed the long way and lived to tell it.
Keep him awhile if you must…
then hide him well and send him back to the tide.
The sea ain’t done with him yet.