The duck had its own coup-like structure, but shared the same chicken-wire fenced area.. One of chickens would be accidently be killed a few days later by a pebble to the head, driven in by one of my cousin’s slingshot. We ate that chicken the same day, to honor its life and usefulness. It was then my aunt told my brother and me to follow her, to show us the backyard. It was an entire forest. We trekked between the tall, leafy parasols shading us from the hot tropical sun. As we moved further into the grove, I could hear the wildlife. There was a constant drone from cicadas, chirping from both birds and crickets, and the occasional croak from frogs, until there was also the rush of water. As we moved, the rush of water became the roar of a waterfall. I stood by the waterfall, taking in the landscape and sounds. Never in my life had I heard or seen such pristine natural beauty. I had lived my life in the urban jungle of Davenport, Iowa, and had only seen parks spared from the blight of human