I’m sure I’ve shared with you before that we cannot have pets because our son, Harrison, is deathly allergic to pretty much everything. And I suppose this burdensome thorn in the little guy’s flesh is, in a way, a helpful thing for us because along with dust, pollen, animal dander, cashews, cantaloupes, and so much more, he also seems to be allergic to basic chores. If we owned a pet, guess who wouldn’t lift a finger to care for it?
But you should know that Harry’s allergies do not stop our daughter, Madeline, from calling out various animal species at random moments in time to test and see if mom and dad might agree to consider the creature. She’s even gone so far as to ask if camels are hypoallergenic. She’s definitely searching, and if even the slightest ray of hope pierces through her pet-less darkness to indicate that a particular of God’s created beasts might be suitable for adoption into the Thoma family, she chases the possibility to its end.
I went for a bike ride with her into town, and while we were there, we stopped by the dam to feed the fish.
Seeing a flock of waddling water fowl, she asked, “Do you think Harry is allergic to ducks?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I know people have them as pets.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But usually they keep them outdoors. I think most folks who own ducks would say they’re better outside than inside.”
“But people DO have ducks for pets,” she pressed.
“Yes, they do.”
“Can we get a duck?!”
“I dunno know, Maddy,” I said and started to climb back onto my bike. She was already beginning to pedal her bike away.
“What if Momma says it’s okay?” she called back to me and did a turn.
“I guess I’d be okay with it,” I said as I pulled up beside her to match her pace. “But we’d need to read up on ducks to see if it would even work for us. And don’t forget how much snow we get here in Michigan. What will we do with it in the winter?”
“We’ll keep it in the basement,” she said before I even finished my sentence. “And then we’ll let him out in spring and summer.”
“Do you know where to get a baby duck?” I asked.
“No. Maybe you can order them online.”
“Like at BabyDucks.com?”
“Yeah. It’ll get shipped right to the door!”
And with that little bit of jovial play, Madeline was gone. She took off and headed for home, pretty much leaving me in the dust.
“Maddy!” I shouted. “What’re you doing?! What’s the hurry?!”
“I’m going home to call Momma and tell her you said we could get a duck!”
Well, I didn’t exactly, I thought to myself. But hey… whatever.
I appreciate Madeline’s enthusiastic optimism in the face of what is not to be. I had the same hopefulness when I snapped into the Colville Kentucky Straight Bourbon. And while Madeline’s hopes were completely dashed after some research and a conversation with her mother, portions of mine survived, and I found myself partially surprised.
This particular small batch whiskey produced by a distillery that appears to pride itself on rum production, smells a bit like corn syrup and saltwater taffy. It’s rich. Too rich. Enough to make you think it’s artificial.
The palate rescues the experience as the Bourbon’s spirit comes to life and delivers a better harmony of caramel corn, honey, and an easy warmth.
The finish brings back the concern that there’s something artificial in there. Not sure what it is, but it does leave me wondering who or what messed with the barrels before this stuff was bottled. I almost wonder if some rum ended up in the mix. The chances are good.
Nevertheless, I’m sure that like so many ducklings, this whiskey longs to be joined to the Thoma household. Unfortunately, I’m thinking that this will be the first and last time I ever hatch a Colville Small Batch egg.