July 1, 2013
I went for a walk this morning and saw a lone fuzzy duckling swimming in a pond. He was very nervous, and swam away from me as fast as he could. I’ve never seen a duckling move that fast. He was the duckling Olympian champion of swimming, and his stubby little wings were flapping like nobody’s business. He kept peeping, and I wondered why his mom didn’t hear him and come and get him. I hoped that by the time I came back around she’d have found him.
Farther along on the walk I saw two quail on the sidewalk. I hoped I’d get to see some babies and, sure enough, there was a swarm of them, each no bigger than a minute, which their parents herded under a bush. They are SO cute!
About the time I came back around to the spot where the duckling was, his mom flew in and splashed down. I was expecting some sort of ecstatic reunion, but she just stood on the bank and waited for him. I imagine that if she’d had arms, they would have been crossed in the universal Mom signal for, “Mister, you are in trouble this time!”
So he waddled out to meet her, and then they both got in the water and swam around, and he stuck close. Last I saw, it looked like maybe she was taking him back to the rest of the brood.
I love happy endings.