The legend of Darkwater Dan

The faded metal sign at Jefferson Lake Park clearly warned visitors not to feed the ducks, but Topher figured it didn’t really apply to him. While the hoi polloi might thoughtlessly throw breadcrumbs at the quackers – hence the warning – he knew better.

So, when he sprinkled a few oats or defrosted peas on the ground, he knew he was merely providing a nutritious snack for his feathered friends. Surely park officials wouldn’t object to that and even if they did, they were never around. What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt anyone.

So, on a cool Saturday morning – just after daybreak – he began making his rounds. Many of the ducks were still in sleep mode, while a few were already on the water, gently gliding from one side of the lake to the other.

Usually Topher had the park to himself this early, but not today. An older man, adorned in a puffy green coat and gray ballcap, was sitting on a bench near the pier that extended into the middle of the water. A small plastic bag was beside him, and Topher assumed it was “snacks” for the ducks.

“Well,” Topher muttered to himself, “I hate to be ‘that guy,’ but he needs to know.”

Topher made his way to the man and waved.

“Morning.”

“Morning yourself,” said the man.

“Not trying to be a busybody, but I noticed you have a bag with you and I figured you were probably gonna feed these ducks. You might already know this, but bread isn’t good for ‘em and that’s what a lot of people try to give ‘em. The park has one of those controlled feeding programs. Again, not trying to run your business, but just wanted to tell you. My name’s Topher, by the way.”

The man smiled, reached into the bag and pulled out stew meat. It was piled high on a Styrofoam plate and tightly wrapped in plastic.

“I’m Victor. Appreciate the tip, but I’m not here to feed the ducks,” he said. “These are for Darkwater Dan. He usually feeds at night, but me and the missus are heading out of town for a couple of days, so I wanted to go ahead and bring him breakfast.”

Topher started to laugh, but quickly realized no joke was intended.

Darkwater Dan was the star of many a local campfire story. Legend had it that a green, four-legged creature with a catfish-like head and long, razor-sharp tale would occasionally climb from the bowels of Jefferson Lake and come on land. It would attack – and eat – anything in its path, leaving scattered feathers and bones in its wake.

The tale gained new life just a few years earlier when dozens of Muscovy ducks disappeared from the lake overnight. Area kids were convinced they were the victims of Darkwater Dan, although the city park and recreation department insisted they had merely been relocated to prevent overpopulation.

That an older gentleman was at the park to feed the mythical monster led Topher to believe perhaps the man had, well, “gone around the bend.”

“Darkwater Dan, huh?” Topher said. “Don’t you think maybe you should take that meat home with you and eat it yourself? I mean, I’m sure he’s got plenty to nibble on here. Lots of ducks … even some snapping turtles.”

Victor sighed.

“Well, that’s why I bring him the meat so he won’t eat the ducks – or anything else. I come out here a couple of times a week, usually after dark, and visit with him. Used to I’d have to throw it way out on the water and he’d come up and snap it, but now he’ll take it right from my hand. He’s pretty friendly … you just have to get past that big ol’ catfish head of his. It’s kinda freaky if you’re not prepared for it.”

Topher wasn’t sure how to respond. The easy move was to simply play along and humor the oldster, but he didn’t want to risk the man slinging stew meat into the water and having ducks gobble it up.

“Tell you what,” Topher said in a condescending tone. “Since the park officials don’t approve of this, why don’t you give me the meat? I live just around the corner and I’ll come back late tonight – after the ducks are asleep – and feed Dan. How’s that sound?”

Victor frowned and stood up.

“If you think you know what’s best, here you go,” he said, handing the meat to Topher. “Good luck. And goodbye.”

As Victor turned and slowly walked down the path leading out of the park, he glanced back at Topher, who was heading toward a garbage can. He wasn’t the first person to think Victor was crazy – and he wasn’t the first person to throw away perfectly good stew meet.

As Victor neared the exit, he saw Dan lurking just under the surface beneath a drainpipe. Once the creature recognized him, it raised its head out of the water.

“Sorry, Dan,” Victor said. “That guy at the other end of the lake doesn’t want me feeding you, so he put your food in that big orange can. Why don’t you do me a favor, though? Go down there and eat that nosy son of a bitch. Just make sure nothing’s left … human flesh is bad for the ducks.”