What Ever Happened to that Duck?

Never got the chance to continue the white duck story. So, as I posted below, I fell when I went against my own rules and jogged around trying to catch this bird. I dusted myself off and tried to enlist a few people to assist me in diverting the duck so I could pick him up but NO ONE responded as they passed. I mean, I was in a Zoo polo shirt, had nice hair, earrings. I looked perhaps like an upright person clearly with a job that involves animals... You'd think they'd at least say something back. Nope.

So I decided to walk him back to the Lake.

I left the carrier where it was, and picked up the blanket I'd brought, stretching it across the front of my body from arm to arm, forming a kind of cloth wall. And I started walking behind him. He marched forward, occasionally looking back at me. If he veered to the left, so did I. Ditto if he veered right, and it got him walking straight again.

We marched past the train tracks, and a sidewalk, the outdoor grills and a swing set, past gravel where people were playing ball and continued over the grass. The duck eventually started quacking at me, the frequency and volume escalating in direct relation to his increasing annoyance with me, I'm sure.

Apparently he can't fly, or I'd assume he'd have taken off at some point. Which most likely means he was owned by someone who dropped him off when they got tired of caring for him.

He finally got tired and resigned -- just stopped in his tracks. I slowly approached, and gently picked him up, just like I was taught as a docent at the Zoo. He sat calmly in the blanket as I walked him steadily the rest of the way, though his bill was open a little the rest of the way. Didn't know if he was hot or pissed. Just a few more steps and I could place him into the water. There was another duck already paddling around close to shore and I hoped that was a good thing. Maybe this duck had been bullied and was seeking refuge so far away. Or maybe it just needed to see another duck in the lake to realize he was one himself, and should take like the proverbial duck to water.

Once floating, I watched him for a few minutes. He seemed unsure he wanted to be there but that faded with in 60 seconds. His bill closed, he took a few dunks in the water, and then began to nibble at the greens growing below the water's surface, as naturally as if he'd been there all his life (and hadn't been annoyed by a 5'7" wingless, webless biped)

I headed all the way back in the scorching sun, numb from my chin to my hairline, collected my carrier and bread, then trudged even further to where I'd parked the car. My jeans were ripped, and prime spots were covered in dirt from my fall. So far, the novicane was holding (this paragraph only makes sense if you read the previous post). I got home and fell into bed.

Two days later, my tooth is 100% better. I'm driving to work and see a bright white football shaped thing in a similar place in the grass.

(yes Ellen, you're psychic)

THE DUCK WAS BACK!!!

The Duck is White and I'm Black and Blue

This is a continuation of the story I started about the Pekin duck I found dangerously close to a busy main road at the Park. If you haven't seen it, it would help to click the link to read it first.

The next day, I find myself dying at work. Had a massive toothache out of the blue, radiating into my eye and jaw. Left work for an X-ray and they said I had to see a specialist right then who'd fit me in. I drove back to work first to get some papers to bring with me, and I see a white fluffy butt on that lawn, STILL.

I could not stop now, but I thought about it all the way through the two + hour root canal I had done that afternoon. She shot me up with something just as I was leaving and told me that would help me when the novicaine wore off, but after that I ought to be where I needed to be for the rest of the night because I'd be in pain. Knowing I had an hour or so before I might be unable to function, I had to go save that duck. He was so far from any parking lot, it was going to be a hike, in boiling temps to boot. With a fresh root canal.

I parked in the lot near the fountains, and studied what I had in the trunk. I decided on a carrier, cracked corn, bread, and a blanket. My large net might have been good, but I'd left it at home. I bucked up and began the walk, thinking of my strategy the entire time. I decided to put the carrier down, and gently approach the duck, drop bread pieces and earn it's trust, then pick it up, put it in the carrier and take it to the lake.

Long story short, it didn't work. He was rather skittish and while interested in the bread, there was no way to get close. It's pretty clear that I was in a hurry under the circumstances, and he sensed that. Not my usual whisperer style... so I did what I never do -- I chased him. This is never a good thing. The animal always wins. I was wearing keen sandals, and if you know them you also know they have knobby rubber toe guards. Well I caught that on the edge of the kiddie railroad track and landed hard on my knees, then fell to the side on my right hip.

Here were the knees two days later. The one on my hip looked like I got it skiing (and falling) 0n the icy slopes of New England.And three days later, the bruises that had astonished me to begin with were MUCH worse -- 5 x larger -- on both knees.
What? Do I have a vitamin deficiency???? And yet, when I think it was all to save a duck, it makes me smile.

Oh yes, I did end up delivering him safely to the lake. To be continued....