June 5, 1988
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June 5, 1988 |
This started out to be a philosophical discussion on the life and death choices we are forced to make in our lifetimes. My model was a small mallard duck with her brand new family who led me around for most of a day, and ended up outsmarting me.
For reasons unknown to humans, she chose to lay her eggs in the bushes beneath the window of one of my neighbors. Three of the ducklings hatched and I first met them a couple of hours later.
The mother and two of her chicks were standing on the curb beside the busy street. The third child was one, which a dog breeder would call the runt of the litter, and he, or she, was having a major problem climbing up to the sidewalk. Mother would go down to his level and talk to him. He would try again. This was repeated so often that a kind human finally braved the mother's noisy defense of her kids and gave the little guy a boost up.
They waddled off down the sidewalk, obviously knowing exactly where they were going. At least the mother knew. Slowly, they worked their way off the concrete and across the gravel, but when they hit the tall grass #3 got bogged down again. Once again, he got a human boost. Finally they all negotiated a small hill and managed to get into the water of the canal.
A wondrous sight was that of three infant balls of fuzz, barely out of their eggs, following their mother to the canal bank and being launched into space. They landed in the water, topside up with three little splashes. They literally hit the water swimming, those tiny feet seeming to move as fast as humming birds' wings when they went against the flow. She led them upstream a little way, for practice no doubt, and then circled and let them float. But even in the water, #3 still brought up the rear.
They traveled downstream until they came to a spot exactly below the Lakeside Lake. But at this point there was a major problem. The canal bank there is steep and bare and four or five feet high. Mother got out of the water first and climbed quickly to the top. #1 and #2 followed her. But there was old #3 stalled at the bottom. He tried and tried, but couldn't make it. Mother went back down and discussed it with him. The other two rolled down like a pair of yellow balls and landed in the water. Once again she went up and the two ducklings scrabbled up behind her. And once again #3 couldn't make it. After watching at least six unsuccessful trips up and down that bank by the persistent trio I couldn't bear to look any more and left. In my human stupidity I could see no way that she could get that little duck out of the canal.
The first law of nature is survival. But for whom? Would she save the two at and abandon the weak one? Or would she risk the two strong ones to manage some sort of rescue of her weakest baby?
Late in the afternoon my curiosity got the better of me and I walked up to the lake, keeping my eyes peeled all the way. There is a little island in the middle of the lake, and the grounds keepers have rimmed it with big rocks to keep the ducks safe and predators out. As I walked past the island THERE THEY WERE. Mother climbed over a rock and was immediately followed by two chicks. I waited with trepidation and sure enough, about ten seconds later a smaller, slower but very eager little duckling followed. They slid into the water and took off in tandem, four mallard ducks swimming across "their" lake in perfect command of the situation and their environment.
I have no idea how she got that little duck into the lake, or even how she knew where the lake was. How did she get so smart? What would I have done in such a circumstance? I was sure she would have to lose a part of her family. But in the end, she fooled me. She had it all, at least for a little while. Maybe I worry too much!