“Medli fell over!” My child’s voice rang through the
minivan with shock and horror. I jumped out of the minivan and ran to the back.
I pulled open the trunk and peeked into the bin. Three ducklings happily
waddled around while a fourth, Medli, lay stiff on the floor.
An image flashed into my mind: Just a week or two
earlier, I had looked out the back door to see one duckling splayed out across
the patio step. When I picked her up, she waddled away and had seemed perfectly
normal since. But clearly, something was not normal.
I scooped up the duckling and she slipped out of my
hands and waddled off to join the others. I returned to my seat in the minivan
and we began driving off. My mind raced. Was she sick? Was she deficient in
essential nutrients? Would the other ducklings succumb to whatever condition
this one had? It was somewhere around mid-morning or early afternoon on
Christmas Day, and we were in another state. I felt completely helpless. Maybe
this incident was a weird fluke, I thought hopefully.
Hours later, the four ducklings happily ran around in the
fenced backyard at my parents’ house. We put their bin in the garage, but
figured that in a fenced backyard, in broad daylight, they would be perfectly
safe playing outside—plus, although they were only two months old, they were
quite large.
I eyed Medli skeptically, but I didn’t see any concerning
behaviors. Later, as I chatted with relatives on the phone, I ran outside, into
the early evening light, and pointed the phone’s camera at our ducklings. They
happily quacked and dashed around my feet. Everything was back to normal.
The baby on my hip began to fuss, so I ran back
inside, into the basement where everyone was gathered. About ten or fifteen
minutes passed.
Hmm…I wonder if the turkey is done cooking. I better
go check on that, I mused.
Still clutching the baby, I bounded up the stairs and
walked into the kitchen. The smell of turkey pervaded the air, but something
else caught my attention: Through the kitchen windows, I could see that it was
completely dark outside. Although it was only around 6 p.m., it could have been
midnight.
“I need to put the ducks up!” I cried. I dashed back
downstairs and thrust the baby in my husband’s arms. I bounded back up the
stairs and out the back door, expecting to see four happy ducks sitting by the
garage, patiently waiting to be put inside.
The backyard was empty.
