Lucky Seven

Yes, she was up to something.

Last month we espied a duck in the back yard. Although we guessed what she was up to, there were no other tell-tail tale signs until Saturday, when she hopped onto the six-foot fence and called to her brood.

Unable to follow their mother (ducks can't fly until they're about two months old), the hatchlings left their hiding places and chirped plaintively. The lady of our house spent hours gathering nine of them in a box and carrying them outside to their mother.

Seven ducks in a box.

Hours later, TLOOH heard chirping coming from a storm drain a hundred feet away. Calls to the police and fire departments brought out hard-working public servants who tried with difficulty to mask their lack of enthusiasm. Upon prying open the cover, the firefighters found six ducklings--more than was expected from the faint noises--and agreed that the effort may have been worthwhile after all. Maybe the mother will come back, they counseled, otherwise you should take them to the SPCA.

Meanwhile, the sound of its six rescued siblings lured a tenth duckling from our backyard shrubbery. We now were responsible for seven (7). Hypoglycemia was a danger, so we administered sugar water via syringe. Energized, they pecked at lettuce and raspberries and splashed merrily in a water-filled plastic tray.

It was 9 p.m. on Saturday night. The SPCA and other animal-rescue organizations had stopped taking calls. We set up an incandescent lamp above one corner of the box to keep them warm overnight.

What happened to the mother? What happened to the three siblings? Should we take the "lucky" seven to the SPCA? Answers would have to wait at least another day.

Early Sunday morning the ducklings were eating, splashing and chirping in their box, just as we had left them last night. Without much hope--would the mother chance looking for them, leaving the other three?--I opened several windows to let the sound out. Ten minutes later I heard a loud quack in our back yard. Mother had returned.

I carried the box to the sidewalk and held it overhead, the sound carrying above the fence line. Slowly approaching, mother hopped the fence and landed on the street. She trailed behind as I carried the box to the lagoon. With 20 feet to go she flew ahead to the water and quacked expectantly.

I slowly tipped the container on its side. The ducklings stepped out and unhesitatingly hopped into the lagoon. Never having swum before, they took to water like, well...

I'd still like to know what happened to the other three ducklings, but in real life one never gets all the answers.

Have a nice life!