PARADE OF PARADES

Twelve newly born ducklings waddle like drunken soldiers behind Mama Duck. The line is absurdly crooked. The mama is alert, ever turning her black and red feathered head to make sure all are accounted for. She stops now and then, touches a straying straggler with her beak and he gets closer to his sisters and brothers. Their path is thru luxurious green and yellow grass that almost swallows them. They search for insects for breakfast, insects I am glad are too small for me to see.

As they reach the street curb, Mama jumps down the few inches first, moves aside and lets the little ones do their best to jump from the mountain. A few tumble over, right them selves and go to the side until all are in the road. I can almost see them grow as they go to investigate the bricks and the monsters coming towards them. A line of cars, drivers going to work, to the golf course, idle in the street. Not one horn honks. Mama Duck stands stoically in the middle of the road, making sounds I cannot hear. Her children come as fast as they can, line up behind her and move to safety.

Where is she taking them? I know but the babies don’t. They watch the big duck tail and where it goes, they follow while I bring up the rear. The goal is in sight–the Atlantic Ocean. First the tiny webbed feet must be strong enough to conquer a big slope full of weeds and burrs. Undaunted they go, disappearing in the tall grass. Mama Duck waits, going back and forth, maybe counting, to be sure no duckling is left behind. Amazing, absolutely amazing, the twelve ducklings reach the edge of the motionless lake. They follow their leader to a spot where the grass and water almost touch. Mama wades into the water and is afloat. She moves in small circles, watching her children wait there for her to come back. For her the climb back to the group looks easy. What makes her select one of the brood over another is a puzzle but she does and almost pushes the duckling into the water. It miraculously floats, tiny feet moving constantly. The eleven follow and make a circle. Mama paddles out, breaks the circle into a crooked line and they head for the other shore. They are brave, dip their heads into the water, maybe find tiny, tiny fish to swallow. At last they get across but the slope up is too great a challenge. Mama Duck soundlessly tells them ‘Follow me, Kids!’ The all hug the edge of the lake until Mama comes to a narrow path of moist earth. The babies manage to make it and are off on another adventure.

You don’t have to believe me, but I swear those ducklings gained weight, grew taller, walked with more confidence than when I first saw their parade a short hour ago. Maybe Mama Duck sees what I see, too, but isn’t yet convinced. Her babies follow her. She prods them, leads them to another road where she plants herself in the middle and traffic stops while the parade doesn’t get rained on and all make it across.

MAMA DUCK. I SALUTE YOU !