Alas, the Canadian Wildlife Police were too late. The fugitive had crossed the border. He had won.

It was true, water really did run off a duck's back. Now they would try the napalm.

A tragic case of avian profiling in the war on bird flu.

The duck took a long, forlorn look at the scenery. Somewhere in the world, he knew, there was beauty... somewhere, there was peace. Right here, though, right now -- he was about to kill the shit right the fuck out of those four orange assholes.

Don the Duck was tired of running. He looked back towards the open pasture once more. Perhaps some day, when they were done with him, he could return.

Robin: "Whats he gonna do? Nibble our bums?!"

Tim: "He's got huge, sharp... er... He can leap about. Look at the bones!"

"Tell her that we're ducks too."
"I told her, but I don't think she's buying it."
"Maybe it's the boot-"
"Maybe it's the bright orange coats, dumbass."

Their new decoy looked perfect. Little would their prey realize that it was packed with C-4 explosives, until it was too late.

"It is time to face facts here, people. We are in way over our heads."

On the run due to massive insurance fraud, the AFLAC duck had run out of options.

The last line of avian flu defence in Canada.

"Duck... the deadliest animal known to man. Keep your bags ready."

No prey is so sought after, no animal so prized, as the proud and noble duck.

"Buy them from a store? C'mon kids...I'm going to show you how to make real down pillows." "Thanks Dad."

After years of living in protected habitat, being fed daily, it was finally Sturgie's time to be released into the beautiful, pristine wilderness.