Oct 18, 2025 3 min read

Christopher Beers and his cohorts from Grandpa’s Joe’s were out and about before the quack of dawn a few weeks back to pull off a caper unlike any other in Canonsburg.

Angling to ruffle a few feathers, the candy shop owner and his team, under the cover of darkness, secretly planted 2,000 little rubber ducks up and down Pike Street in the borough’s downtown.

Social media was quack-quacking: Who was the culprit behind this ducky deed? Waddle be next? It was a regular whodunit – a real quack-mire, no less.

A few weeks later, the tiny ducks were trumped – or shall we say trumpeted? (we know, swans trumpet, but we liked the wordplay) – by giant, 14-foot-tall inflatable clones perched on the rooftops of a half-dozen downtown businesses.

“I really wanted to just create a surprise and a buzz throughout the town of Canonsburg,” Beers confessed to the newspaper the day the town awakened to the rooftop flocking.

He’s a real wise-quacker, that Beers.

A clucking brilliant one, too. While we typically use this space to comment on topics of a more serious nature, his quack-level genius is deserving of a big shout-out – a duck call, if you will forgive our penchant for puns – for both the positive attention he drew to the community along with some good, old-fashioned fun and harmless mischief.

His “guerrilla marketing idea” worked. Interstate 79 motorists were doing double-takes as they drove past the Canonsburg exit, craning their necks for a better look at the giant waterfowl, prompting some to duck off the highway to enjoy the tomfoolery up close.

They flocked to the borough of 9,600 – make that 11,600, if you count the ducks – to take selfies with the feathered friends, buy duck-shaped pool floats at Grandpa Joe’s and try a Butterscotch Quackaccino at Chicco Baccello coffee shop, one of the several businesses happily complicit in the prank.

It was all in good fun. Just ducky, we might add.

After incubating for a year, Beers hatched the “expensive publicity stunt” with the intended result: to bring a positive energy to Canonsburg and encourage locals and out-of-towners alike to visit and patronize downtown merchants. Rather than dwelling on the negative news of the day, people were heard musing about the whimsical high jinks – in doctor’s offices, store checkout lines and over backyard fences.

It was refreshing, a reprieve from the serious. And it was very much appreciated, given the weightiness of the news cycle.

“I am just so appreciative. When we did the ducking the very first time, people started pointing their fingers at Grandpa Joe’s. I have worked my tail off to create a brand and an experience that is unlike anybody else,” Beers said. “Canonsburg is my home. This is where I am raising my family, and to give back in this manner, I owe it to Canonsburg. Because Canonsburg has been so good to us. So I’m just extremely grateful for all of the loyal support that we have out there.”

So to anyone who looks down on the cheeky campaign, we say lose the fowl mood. Be a duck, and let that water roll off your back.

We’re still quacking up.