You Should Feed Ducks The Good Bread

Colleen and I were binge-watching Gossip Girl last winter, and there are a few scenes where a stressed and irate Blair Waldorf wanders over to Central Park to feed the ducks. I told Colleen, "that sounds soothing — we should do that when the weather gets better". And then, as I’m wont to do, I promptly forgot. But Colleen takes note of moments like that, and a few months later she reminded me: we should actually go feed some ducks.

That’s how I found myself in Central Park last weekend, feeding ducks. It was the first beautiful day of spring in New York — the kind of day New Yorkers wait for, when everyone pours out to enjoy sunlight finally breaking through after a long dark winter. We had a picnic, strolled through the park, wandered amidst thousands of New Yorkers — and of course, we fed the ducks.

My wife (who I should preface is an extremely kind, caring, and loving person) and I got into a small debate over what kind of bread to feed the ducks. I insisted on buying them a nice loaf, and she felt it was unnecessary — the ducks would happily take our scraps. I argued that buying a good loaf cost us very little but could potentially make their day. Heck, it could even possibly be the best meal they ever have. She replied that there’s no way to know if they’d even notice the difference — to them, it might just be one carb versus another.

Three Philosphers Interject

I bought the dang bread, and she didn’t mind. I spent the whole afternoon thinking about that moment, and why it meant so much to me. In the end, I came back to three philosophers and their philosophies.

John Rawls

John Rawls’ Veil of Ignorance is a thought experiment about how to design a just society. Imagine yourself behind a veil of ignorance, where you don’t know your place in that society. You don’t know your race, gender, class, talents, or job — and because you could end up a CEO or a janitor, you’d rationally choose to build a society rooted in fairness and decency for all.

Now imagine you’re born into a world where you could be a human or a duck. Humans shape the world to their whims, while ducks hunt for scraps and take handouts from strangers. What if you were the duck — not the one giving bread, but the one hoping someone kind might offer you a piece?

That’s the essence of contractualism. This is not a truly just world — but it is our world.

Blaise Pascal

Pascal’s Wager is a similar framework — but more inward-looking. Blaise Pascal argued that the only rational thing to do is believe in God. Why?

• If you believe in God and you’re right, you gain infinite reward: a spot in heaven for the rest of eternity.
• If you believe in God and you’re wrong, you lose a little: some wasted time and lifestyle shifts.
• If you don’t believe in God and you’re wrong, you risk infinite loss: eternal fiery damnation.
• If you don’t believe in God and you’re right, you only gain a little: temporary freedom and earthly pleasures.

I think about Pascal’s Wager a lot — not just when I’m wondering about my everlasting fate. Feeding ducks good bread isn’t exactly a God-tier question, but I do often ask: what are the consequences of my choices if I’m right or wrong about my assumptions? It’s often worth putting in the extra effort — because maybe I’m wrong, and there’s more to this mortal plane than I know.

Immanuel Kant

And then we have Deontology — or more specifically, Kantian Ethics. Kant believed that morality isn’t about outcomes or self-interest — it’s about duty, reason, and universal principles. His Categorical Imperative says:

Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.

That's a philosophical way of saying Kant believed in the Golden Rule. If I were a duck, I’d want the good bread just like any person does. And so, as a human, I have a responsibility to feed ducks the good bread.

Back to Central Park

Reader, I did not feed the ducks the good bread. Not because I’m morally bankrupt — we simply did not find enough ducks to feed the giant loaf of bread I’d stressed about all day. The few we did find got some decent sandwich bread leftover from our picnic. When I got home, I left out the remainder of our picnic for the neighborhood birds — some fruit that they seemed to appreciate. The next day, we used the good bread to make delicious sandwiches and played lovingly with our little cat.

Not feeding the ducks wasn’t a moral failing — it was just a coincidence. Sometimes, you need to find more ducks in your life so you can feed them the good bread. Spend some time looking for a duck to feed — you might be surprised how much it fills you up, too.

Look — no one really knows how any of this works. Not Kant, not Pascal, not Rawls. But I feel pretty strongly that small acts go a long way. So when you get the chance, you should feed ducks the good bread. Metaphorically speaking, of course. It turns out that bread isn’t great for ducks, and ethics are complicated — but kindness is always warranted.