In a world where family feuds turn into legal battles, where neighbors settle tiffs with torts, and where 9 out of every 10 phone books have a personal injury attorney ad on the back cover, it occurred to me that I was as good as a dead duck without legal representation.

Of course, you call a lawyer to arrange having them on retainer, and explain you're a 10" tall duck without visible means of income, even the shoddiest shyster will walk away while shaking their heads, laughing.

At long last, though, I was able to assemble a team that saw me as a person (well, a duck) who has needs and interests that need to be protected. And began by ensuring I had a legal disclaimer that protected my interests, covered my feather-covered toosh, and helped ensure that all the stuff I have today remains mine in the future.

Breaking from a busy afternoon of research, we manage to meet with Barney, our legal Beagle, and Quint, our intern tiger shark.	Not one to neglect his duties, Barney soon returns to searching the tomes to provide quality counsel to yours truly.	Quint, on the other wing, takes a few minutes out of his day to look into matters of a personal matter - and this is quite okay with me.