One night in 390 B.C., a detachment of Gauls crept up Capitoline Hill and tried to scale the walls of ancient Rome. The Roman sentries slept, but not the sacred geese in the Temple of Juno. They squawked, Rome waked, and the attack in the night was repelled.
Last week, in the sleepy Bavarian town of Freiburg, the city fathers unveiled a three-foot marble statue of a drake, neck arched to the sky and bill at full quack.
They had assembled to honor a nameless drake, born in Freiburg some time during World War II, which showed an uncanny sensitivity to...
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