Fuzzy Wuzzy

A lone baby duckling was turned in to the wildlife rehab the other day. This one was as fuzzy to the touch as it looks.

I wish you could have seen his little feet. The top half were burnt orange and the bottom half -- closest to his legs -- was a nice mahogany brown, just like his fuzzy head. I have no idea what kind of duck he'll grow up to be.

I've never held a baby duck before. But he was relaxed and settled quickly into my palm. I would have loved to hold him for longer, as he has no mother or brothers and sisters for company or, more importantly, to keep him warm. But though it's a privilege to be able to get this close to wild animals, if we really care about them getting a chance to live the life they were born for, it's best to not "imprint" our human selves on them. Though we mean well, they risk becoming too tame to go back and live where they can be free. I only took him out to clean his tank. After this 5 second picture, I put him back in, among the large water bowl and soft clean tee shirt I tenderly prepared for him, with a bit of chick feed sprinkled on one part of the ground. Later I balled up a thick piece of fleece and put that in with him too, hoping it might seem a little like a nice, cozy brother.

What's best for this little one is to be with other ducklings, to learn by watching them how to be a duck. It's a little tricky for babies born this late in the season. Most others are several weeks older, but if there is this one, there are others on some kind rehabber's land somewhere and I'm sure next time I go back, I will hear that he's gone somewhere to grow big, handsome and strong.