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Drop into the exciting and often humorous world of The Quackers as Sidney J. Quacker chronicles the lives of these environmentally conscious ducks as they seek to educate the world about the dangers of global warming and the importance of practicing sustainability all while surfing the most gnarly waves possible.

The stories are imaginative, educational and a delight to fans of all ages.

The Quackers have appeared bi-monthly in The Santa Monica Daily Press Newspaper since July 2008.  Through word of mouth and the trusty U.S. Postal service, they have garnered loyal fans locally, all over the U.S. and as far away as Japan. 

Now Quacker fans, near and far, old and new will now be able to easily access The Quacker stories anytime they choose.



Archive titles

  • Quackers #40 – Space, a New Frontier
  • Quackers #39 – The Original Tree Huggers
  • Quackers # 38 – Words of Wisdom
  • Quackers # 37 – I Wish it Was Only a Dream
  • Quackers #36 – Honoring Tradition and Nutrition
  • Quackers # 35 – Bringing in the Good Guys
  • Quackers # 34 – A Call to Service
  • Quackers #33 – Exploring New Hobbies
  • Quackers #32- Everyone Has a Job to Do
  • Quackers #31 – It’s OK to Cheat Off Mother Nature
  • Quackers #30 – Farming a New Crop
  • Quackers# 29 – The Quackers in Japan
  • Quackers #28 – A Squirrel with a Rap Sheet
  • Quackers #27 – Art, Fossils and Dragonflies
  • Quackers #26 – The Unseen World of Giants
  • Quackers #25 – Ode to Walden Pond
  • Quackers #24 – Going Batty
  • Quackers # 23 – Big Daddy’s Gift
  • Quackers #22 – Dreaming of Rainbows
  • Quackers #21 – The Duck Factory
  • Quackers #20 – Safe Passage
  • Quackers # 19 – Gardens in the Sky
  • Quackers #18 – Mosquitoes Need Love Too
  • Quackers – #17 – A Taste of Southern Hospitality
  • Quackers – #16 – Not a Wave in Sight
  • Quackers #15 – Ouch! My Bark hurts
  • Quackers #14 – The Ark de Triomphe
  • Quackers #13 – The Calming Effect of Compost
  • Quackers #12 – The Song Stops Here
  • Quackers #11- The Big Plan
  • Quackers # 10 – Rusty gets a haircut
  • Quackers #9 – A Royal Visit
  • Quackers #8 – Migration Blues Migration Blues
  • Quackers #7-Bye Bye Pumpkin Pie
  • Quackers #6-Paradise is Melting
  • Quackers #5-We Are Surfing in What?
  • Quackers #4-Terror in a plastic bag
  • Quackers #3-Juanita’s Summer Visit
  • Quackers #2-The Ocean Is Not A Toilet
  • Quackers #1-In The Beginning


Quackers #40 - Space, a New Frontier

For an entire week Rusty and Richard had been embroiled in a huge disagreement over space. Not the constellations, planets, and stars kind of space but actual surface area, give me some elbow room kind of space.

I was certain the whole thing would blow over in an hour or two. Instead, it continued to simmer until day three when everything suddenly boiled over and exploded. Hearing the commotion, I ran into the room to find my brothers bill to bill sputtering with anger and frustration. Words and reason had deserted them. I jumped between them and screamed, “Stop this madness!”

Instead, they continued to rage. They swore it wasn’t over and declared they would not utter another word to each other except through me. That was definitely not my plan.

After the explosion, a cold war was waged with me in the middle. I loathed my job as go between. I stumbled under the weight of defeat as my peacemaking efforts continued to fail day after day. With tension and stress overwhelming me I began to constantly daydream about how good life had been before the great quack-roversy.

I begged for a truce at meal times. Sadly, my words fell on deaf ears. Sitting down for a meal had become a digestive nightmare.

Making a bad situation worse, my brothers stumbled on yet another way to make my job as go between and our meals even more aggravating. For reasons known only to them, they insisted on delivering any mealtime requests in high pitched British accents. This morning Rusty started bright and early with, “Sidney, old chap, might I trouble you to instruct “Mr. It is all my space” to quit hogging all the toast?” To which Richard replied, “Right-o Siddy, perhaps you could inform, “Mr. I own the whole world” to cease inhaling all the butter and we might come to an arrangement.” I am growing an ulcer.

So much turmoil now left me with a need for space. I set out for the beach, alone.

The water was tranquil. Small ripples played on the surface becoming gentle humps as they moved closer to shore. They crested and broke at almost the same point and then lazily lapped the sand. Lifting my face to the sun I settled in and waited for the beach to work its magic.

It wasn’t long before the perfect peacemaking idea rocketed into my brain and had me scrambling for home.

Renewed and determined I ignored the pouting faces across the table and said, “Bottom line guys, there is only so much space on our little planet.” Richard immediately rolled his eyes and interrupted, “Exactly! That is why I need the entire space in the garage for my project.” Exasperated, Rusty yelled, “So do I!”

Undaunted, I continued, “I’ve listened carefully to you both. It sounds like the problem is really about use of space. Maybe we have enough and just need to think about it differently.” As they shrieked in protest, I held up my hand and pleaded, “Can you just listen?”

“In a place called Boundary Creek, Idaho there was a similar problem. Instead of two brothers fighting over space it was grizzly bears and lumberjacks. Given, it was a much larger space but like you two, they both had important reasons for needing and using the space.”

“The grizzlies needed it to forage for food and to move across it to reach their hibernating spots in the mountains. They needed it to live.”

“The lumberjacks needed it to harvest the timber that grew in this space so they could feed themselves and their families. They needed it to make a living.”

“Both had good reasons for needing the space. The problem came about when they both wanted to use the same space at the same time, just like you.”

“I don’t know about lumberjacks but grizzly bears are not known for their social graces or their ability to play well with others so sharing the space seemed to be out of the question.”

“If grizzlies could talk, they would probably argue that they were there first so the space was theirs.”

“The lumberjacks might also argue that although they weren’t first their need was as great as the bears but like you two, arguing wouldn’t solve the problem or get things done.”

“Along came the Nature Conservancy to the rescue. They helped develop a plan that served both the grizzlies and the lumberjacks. In the end, the lumberjacks agreed not to harvest timber during the spring and fall months when the grizzlies needed the area. By cutting timber during the summer and the winter months both of them could live and thrive. The plan worked for them both. Does that give you guys any ideas?”

Rusty laughed and hugged Richard, “Come on you old grizzly let’s call a truce and see what we can work out.”

As I watched them walk away laughing and planning I knew we were going to be OK.

All rights reserved/Phyllis J. Chavez/3-29-11

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