For Daisy
Posted: Monday, April 13, 2009
by Grammy Guru
http://grammyguru.com
In the fall, shortly before we purchased the home we were renting, they arrived--two mallards, a drake and a hen. A Peking duck already was in residence on our little lake, yet he appeared to welcome the sqatters.
The trio was a pretty sight, bobbing and diving in the lake. Before the mallards arrived, we referred to the Peking duck simply as "Duck". But, with the addition of the mallards, we thought each foul needed its own name. Calling them Duck #!, #2 or #3 seemed impersonal. Thus, we christened the three, Daisy, Donald and Daffy. Daffy, aka Peking duck, was so named because of his clownish behavior. Due to his clipped wings, he was graceful only when swimming. When he tried to walk on shore, he floundered clumsily. Daisy and Donald were default names--we lived in Central Florida, near Disney World, so what else would they be named?
The following spring, much to my husband's delight, Daisy and Donald did not fly north. "I think they've decided to say," he said. That's when he made feeding the ducks a daily ritual. If we were going to be away for any length of time, he took their loaves of Wonder Bread to a neighbor and made her promise to feed them until he returned. Soon the ducks became neighborhood pets. If they were in the yard, and we called them by name, they came, waddling and quacking, to see why they'd been summoned.
In March of the following year, Daisy seldom came to be fed. Her conspicuous absence from the feeding area began to concern us. Donald and Daffy were there several times a day, squabbling with and pecking at one another as usual. Then, for one entire week, we did not see Daisy. The notion that something had happened to our Daisy was unspeakable. We watched intently for her to make an appearance. My husband patrolled the neighborhood and asked everyone if they'd seen Daisy.
"I think Daisy has a nest," my husband said one morning. "I've see Donald and Daffy on the other side of the lake when they're not here eating. Maybe Daisy is in that intense vegetation over there."
"But you should be able to see her with the binoculars," I insisted.
"Not if she's way back in those tall reeds."
One morning shortly after that conversation, Daisy waddled up the hill from the lake, quacking demandingly. She seemed very annoyed. She was also starving, apparently. We fed her mammoth portions of bread. She even ate bread from my husband's hand.
On April 13, Daisy came to feed at dusk. She brought with her twelve fluffy, cheeping ducklings. We fed her bread until she was satiated and watched as she led her family down the hill to the edge of the lake. Fluffing her feathers, she gathered her noisy brood beneath her. The little family settled in some soft grass clippings beneath a clump of saucer magnolias. While I watched Daisy and her children settle in, my husband called the neighbors. Everyone came to admire Daisy's family from a discreet distance. Nearby, Daffy strutted and flapped his wings. "Look at the proud papa," someone remarked. From my vantage point halfway down the hill, I threw some bread to Daisy. She ate what she could reach without moving.
"I hope Daisy and the babies will be safe here," I said.
"The tall weeds and grass on the lake's edge make a good camouflage area for them," my husband said reassuringly.
The next morning, my husband called to me. "Come see the ducklings! They can't swim over the lily pads, so they're walking over them."
I looked through the binoculars. I counted ten ducklings. But Daisy and two of the ducklings were missing. Something caught in my throat.
"Where's Daisy?" I said hoarsely.
"She's over there in the weeds," my husband answered calmly.
But it wasn't Daisy. It was a dove. I called Daisy's name several times. If she were anywhere nearby, she would have answered the call to come feed. Donald and Daffy were bobbing on the lake near the flotilla of ducklings.
"Something's happened to Daisy!" I insisted. "She would never leave her babies."
"No, she'll show up," my husband said firmly. "While you're at work, I'll look for her."
I wanted to stay and search for Daisy, but I just couldn't. Heavy hearted, I left, praying that when I returned that night, Daisy would be home.
It was dark when I finally returned. My husband was sitting at the kitchen table, soaked to the skin, his clothing spattered with wet sand and dirt.
"Something killed Daisy and two of the ducklings," he said quietly. "I found their remains on the shore beneath my overturned boat, about six feet from her new nest. The remaining babies have been on the lake all day. I didn't know what to do. At dusk, they ran up the hill and clumped together in that low spot near the foundation of the house. How they ever knew to do that, only their Creator knows. Then it began to drizzle, so I grabbed a dip net and one of those tall cardboard packing boxes, scooped up nine of ducklings and put them on the screened porch where they'll be safe. The tenth duckling escaped through a hole in the net and streaked toward the lake. I searched for him until it was dark."
On the porch, I peered into the box. The babies gathered in one corner of their cardboard prison, cheeping pitifully, mournfully. How could something so fragile survive such trauma?
We are city people. We don't know how to raise orphan ducklings. But I knew we had to find someone to help us save Daisy's family. Gathering phone books and telephones, we began the process of enlisting help. Several hours and many phone calls later, we located a wildlife specialist. For a minuscule fee, he drove forty-five miles in the rain at 10 p.m. to collect Daisy's family and take them to his farm. "I'll give them some high protein food when I get them home," he promised. " I have some mallard hens, but they won't foster these ducklings. But I've had good luck getting my Muscovys to do it. You know, that hen did a good job protecting those babies. Nine of them are still alive. And, if you want, when they are able to survive on their own, I'll bring some, or all of them back for you." Fearing some evil fate might befall them again, we declined the offer.
After Daisy's family had vanished into the inky night, we sat silently for a long time, unable or unwilling to verbalize our thoughts and feelings about the horror that had befallen our pet.
Several months have passed since Daisy died. Donald and Daffy engage in daily squabbles with one another. The squirrels, doves, quail, cardinals and blue jays visit the bird feeder daily to bicker and scatter bird seed. My husband continues to remind me that wild things die all the time. That's nature's way. And so it probably is. But I can't pretend Daisy didn't exist, that she was our pet duck. Nor can I forget she died a cruel death doing what all devoted mothers do; protecting their young, even unto death Okay, she was a duck. But she was ours, and we loved her, and we will miss her forever.
Every now and then, I step into the darkness of the lanai and listen to the night sounds. And once in awhile I whisper onto the gentle breeze, "Wherever you are, Daisy, be assured your children are safe."
I recall hearing that sometimes, ducks instinctively return to their birthplace. Perhaps someday, one of Daisy's children will return to their first home here on Lake Shelby. Maybe that was her parting wish for them; one she breathed to them in a soft sigh before she left. We are simultaneously hopeful and fearful. And we wait.
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More commentsGrammy, what a beautiful story. (sad too). I bet these babies will show up when they are grown.You reminded me of how hard it was to say goodbye to our dog jettsie.Very well told. I feel the love. Bravo! Blessings to you! TeresaPlease log in to respond to this comment.As always, your comments were appreciated and so are the blessings. Best wishes, always.Please log in to respond to this comment.
Grammy Guru,Your writing deserves just that, a Grammy!Please log in to respond to this comment.What a lovely complement! So glad the article was a good read for you.Please log in to respond to this comment.Grammy,It wasn't good, it was wonderful! A pleasure of a story to read and experience.Keep up the good work!Please log in to respond to this comment.
Dear Grammy Guru, This is the first of your articles that I have been privileged to read. It is wonderful, no better choice could there have been at the top of your articles list. So glad you wrote about this, and you did it with clarity and much feeling.Please log in to respond to this comment.Jane, thank you for your comments. I am delighted that you enjoyed the article. Best wishes.Please log in to respond to this comment.
This article really drew me in and I really enjoyed reading it. I only wish there was a picture of the lake or something I am not even sure we can add visuals here.Please log in to respond to this comment.Thanks for the feedback. I'm glad you enjoyed the article.
It's been quite a few years since this happened, and I know I have a picture of our lake somewhere. But I sure wouldn't know how to put a picture with the article! Something to look into at some point . .
Best wishesPlease log in to respond to this comment.
Grammy,I loved this! And, of course I had tears in my eyes when I read about Daisy. I hope the baby ducks return some day. I envy you your 'lake' situation. What a joy it must bring you.NancyPlease log in to respond to this comment.Thanks for the comments, Nancy. I am so glad you enjoyed the story.Even after all this time, I can't think of Daisy without getting a lump in my throat. Some things in life are unforgettable. She certainly was one.Writing about her was just my way of ensuring, that with the passage of time, we would recall the joy she gave us and the devotion she displayed to her precious family .Please log in to respond to this comment.
Beautiful and touching, thanks so much for sharing your experience with us!Please log in to respond to this comment.How kind of you to read and take time to comment. I'm delighted you enjoyed the article.Best wishes!Please log in to respond to this comment.
I really enjoyed your article. Animals are amazing creatures. Thank you for sharing.Linda DPlease log in to respond to this comment.So glad you enjoyed the article. Thank you for commenting.Please log in to respond to this comment.
hi grammy,you have an excellent way with words. what a story. filled with anticipation and wonder, and then fear, and sadness. you covered it all, and in a well written way.thanks for sharing this with us,my best regards,sue thomPlease log in to respond to this comment.Hi, Sue.Thank you so much for your comments. I'm so pleased you thought the article captured the emotions of the event. That's what I aim for in writing about something so precious to me.Best regards,GrammyPlease log in to respond to this comment.
Very Grammy! Very nice article. I love dogs but cant afford to keep it in my home now as its very small for us even. Lol...infact great article and I did enjoy it.Please log in to respond to this comment.Hello, Chiradeep,
Thanks for the lovely compliments. I am sorry you can't have a pet right now, but you never know . . .
Blessings to you and yours,
GrammyPlease log in to respond to this comment.
Enjoyable read Grammy (can I call you Grammy?). We have two Mallards that return to our neighborhood each Spring. We named them Fred and Ethel. Thanks for writing. StevePlease log in to respond to this comment.Love the name Grammy, so feel free to use it! I love the names Fred and Ethel! Great monikers. May they live long and free.Best wishes,Grammy.Please log in to respond to this comment.
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