AP Statistics Quiz - The Old Man and the Duck

Read the passage below and answer the questions that follow:

ONCE THE QUIZ HAS BEGUN, THE PASSAGE WILL BE HIDDEN

The fluffy brown duck jumped through the puddle when she noticed her favorite snack sitting on the pavement next to her. Rye bread. Not pumpernickel, not whole wheat, but rye. It was late April, the midst of Spring. At the end of each day, a tall and tired old man dressed in a blue flour-covered apron with a name tag reading “Gerald” pinned to the straps emerged from his bakery and would stroll across the road carrying a small paper bag in between his stout fingers, creased from a day’s hard work. The man would make his way over to the gray metal bench and lower himself onto the wide rungs. Setting the paper bag in his lap, he would reach in and pull out an assortment of bread - the loaves that had been left over from the bakery that day. The man would break apart the crusty slices into chunks and toss them into the water, breaking the glassy surface and sending out waves of ripples. When the ripples reached the ducks, they knew what time of the day it was. They hastily glided over to the edge of the pond and enjoyed their treat. The old man was always delighted by the presence of his furry companions. He smiled when his favorite fluffy brown duck gobbled down his baked goods. “You’re my best customer,” he would say, “always hungry and always adorable.” The following day, Mother Nature watered her lilacs and peonies with a perpetual rainstorm. Thick clouds detained the sun and incessantly released plump droplets throughout the afternoon. The fluffy brown duck huddled with the rest of her family and suddenly noticed an immense figure penetrating through the fog. He wore a puffy yellow windbreaker. One hand was gripping a maroon umbrella while the other was holding a mysterious object, too far away to see. As the figure approached the edge of the pond, the duck could make out the mysterious object: a brown paper bag. Even without the nametag or the dusty apron, the duck knew it was the old man. She waddled eagerly up to the man who was now crouched down and reaching into his bag. Under the cover of the umbrella, she shook the rain off of her feathers and looked up at the man. “Hey there, little lady,” he said with a smile. “You didn’t think I would forget about you, did you?” He reached into his bag and pulled out a thick loaf of rye bread, breaking off a large piece and setting it at the pads of the duck’s feet. The duck looked down and gobbled her delicacy. The duck shuffled over to her buddy and nudged her head up against his drenched rubber rain boots. The old man looked down and smiled. “I never forget about my friends.”