My Encounter with a Mean Mother Mallard
Posted: Sunday, January 23, 2011
by Dave Potchak
PO's Peek at the Past
With so little light in the morning sky, I really shouldn’t have been jogging down our lane. I could barely see the rocks and potholes in my path, but knew the street lights in town would give me the necessary illumination needed to complete my morning run.
I’m not sure how I spotted the dead mallard duck at the juncture of our private drive and the state road, but I do remember almost tripping over the carcass. It was obvious that she had been hit by an automobile. Further into my morning ritual, I remember passing the area in town where a multitude of ducks nested and raised their young each spring. I recall thinking, “that poor mallard – she didn’t make it to the safe confines of the sanctuary.”
The May morning was too still for wind to have caused any motion in the mallard’s feathers and the closer I got to the remains, I noticed that the morning traffic wasn’t the reason for the faint movements either.
Sure enough, nestled under mama’s wing were four little ducklings huddled together, trying their best to keep warm in the frosty air. The fact that they were unhurt was more than miraculous.
This Good Samaritan carefully picked up each duckling and placed them between his tee shirt and sweatshirt and immediately returned again to the sanctuary in town, now buzzing with so much noise, it rivaled a big city airport.
Carefully navigating the slippery hill into the water, I lost my footing and found my new Nike running shoes submerged in about six inches of freezing water. Still undaunted, I started to open my sweatshirt to release the little ones gently into the creek, when one of them quacked - yes, a simple, but loud, quack.
I have no idea what code ducks use to communicate and personally I don’t care what they say to each other. But when another mama duck (with five ducklings of her own) heard that lone quack, she attacked me like….well, like one mean mother duck. She was not only vocal in her assault, but dive bombed me three or four times, knocking my toboggan hat off my head and into the same water where my frozen feet had been for the past two or three minutes. She also managed to get a peck or two in while splattering my sweat pants with mud.
Rather than risk injury to the other hatchlings, I took my punishment without a retaliatory flailing of my own, and placed all four safely in the water.
If you’re familiar with mallards, you may be aware that they have a unique feature as they swim or strut that seems to proclaim just how proud of a bird they are. This proud mama seemed to strut her stuff even more than usual as she led her family of nine down the creek toward a safe haven. A proud peacock had nothing on this mother mallard.
I smiled as I watched the matriarch in her new adoptive roll. But as I attempted to crawl back up the bank, I found myself on my hands and knees four inches deep in the next-to-freezing quagmire. Immediately checking my surroundings, I tossed my cotton gloves up the bank. I wanted to know if any others had observed my comical efforts of philanthropy. Nope, the only witnesses to my aquatic display were birds’ eye witnesses and for that I am thankful.
My body is no longer willing or capable of attempting morning runs, but I feel fortunate that my memory is still as crisp as it was that May morning 35 years ago. On that morning, I realized that wicked step-mothers from fairy tales may be the exception rather than the rule in nature. And in the aviary world, you can be a mean step-mother mallard without being one bit wicked.
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Top-level comments on this article: (9 total)This was a really great story. Thanks for sharing it.thanks, just a hobby of mine,...remembering things from "back in the day"
I loved this! I could just imagine the picture you painted for us of the ducklings nestled under their mother's wing. Your sense of humour as always, shone through too David. Nice!Thanks, Brianna.... for taking time to comment....always good hearing from you.... Dave
I enjoyed reading your story Dave, quite an ordeal you went through.thanks as always David...good to hear from you.... the ordeal wasn't so bad, as it was UN expected...mama mallards give no warnings, I discovered....and being a science guy, I'm always fascinated with the readiness of some animals to become adoptive parents...it seems to run the spectrum, from easily adoptive to "not to want to be bothered" - and humans seem to run the gamut too....the animal kingdom is indeed diversified...take care, Dave
I really liked the way you connected with the ducks and how you narrated the whole incident. Very interesting. Thank you.DMthanks for taking time to read and comment.... I enjoyed your last submission too, Dave
I have to agree completely with Gregory here, this is one amazing story! Unique and well written with a good point too. Thanks for sharing!You are killing me with kindness! Dave, the author...
Hi Dave.
I love this story. You are so sweet and giving. I've been attacked by geese (mostly when I wasn't immediately forthcoming with the bread in my hands) and it can be a bit frightening and painful. They pinch! But you were stoic and sent them to a good home. BRAVO!
I also love how you wrote this. Very nice all around.
Hugs,
DianneAlways good to hear from you, Dianne. Your "sweet and giving" description made me think and smile. Not everyone that I've met in life would agree with that, especially some of my former students. Thanks for taking time to read and comment and hugs in return - Dave
Gorgeous, Dave! It does seem miraculous that the babies survived - and that you were the one who found them. I love that you went to so much trouble to rescue them :)
Jennifer,...always did have a spot in my heart for animals....many of my colleagues in under grad. Bio classes, went on to become vets...I chose the education path, and worked for 32 years teaching middle school kids...I guess you could say, we all kind of worked with animals in our careers anyway,...a little humor there,...as always, thanks for writing... Dave
Hello Fran, good to hear from you. Regarding my "recall" - there are some in my family who feel that my memory is a blessing,..but I have to admit there are some that feel it's a curse..lol...All I know is that things stick with me, and always did...the more pleasant the experience or the more painful - it seems those stuck with me better, but some like the duck story, just don't fit either mold.....And there are those (above comments) who wonder why in the H is this guy writing about this anyway.... I really don't have an answer for that other than it feels good to re-live some of life's experiences....take care, Dave
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