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Editor's
note: On Fridays we sometimes publish a change-of-pace
article to help you loosen up for the weekend, usually something
to do with the outdoors, entertainment, sports or arts.
(Webb)
Wild ducks nest every year at the small irrigation reservoir
above my home where Hayduke and I take our walks. There are now
six baby ducks paddling around the reservoir under the watchful
eye of Momma Mallard. Some years as many as a dozen babies swim
around the pond in two or three different groups.
A
number of years ago, I caught a baby duck, not much more than a
tiny ball of fluff, scurrying across our driveway. We surmised that
it had probably been frightened away from the reservoir, perhaps
by a skunk, snake or weasel that had attacked the nest.
My
daughter, Erin, then 12 and very tender-hearted, immediately fell
in love with the cheeping baby, and named it Atticus.
We
knew Atticus would not survive long in our neighborhood full of
dogs and bird-hunting cats, and we could find no sign of other baby
ducks or the mother at the reservoir. So Erin talked me into putting
Atticus in a cardboard box and she equipped it with a shallow bowl
of water and a nest of soft rags.
But
what do you feed a baby duck? My wife made a few calls to pet stores
and the Humane Society and learned that soggy cat food or cooked
oatmeal would work just fine. Within a few hours Atticus had stopped
his frantic cheeping and was drinking and eating. Soon the fuzzy
ball cuddled contentedly in Erin 's hand.
I
could see Erin becoming very fond of Atticus, and I talked with
her about the wisdom of trying to help out a wild duck. Atticus
wouldn't stay in the cardboard box for long, and a semi-tame, half-grown
wild duck would be easy prey for a variety of predators.
We
concluded it was probably better to allow nature to take its course,
even though the baby duck would probably not survive back at the
reservoir without a mother. My daughter wrote this in her journal:
“When
we hiked up the mountain to set Atticus free at the reservoir, I
was still optimistic. I imagined that his family was swimming contently
in the pond. We would set him free and he would joyously waddle
to them. They would welcome him with open arms back to the family—just
like I had seen in Disney movies my whole life.
“When
we reached the reservoir the sun was setting. To my deep disappointment
there were no ducks in the water, but my parents still felt it was
the best place to give the duck a chance. When I released him he
ran around the entire pond peeping tragically. I watched with tears
streaming down my face until the sun was gone. As I rested in my
warm bed that night I couldn't understand the helplessness I was
feeling. I wished I could have taken care of the little duckling
so that I could know that he was safe, warm, and fed.”
In
subsequent days I saw no sign of the tiny duck while walking past
the reservoir. But releasing him was still the right thing to do.
In society today we too often try to treat animals like humans,
and that's particularly dangerous for wild animals. Wild animals
have to be managed for the betterment of the entire species, not
managed to preserve particular individual animals. “Bambi,” “The
Yearling,” and such stories are good literature and teach important
lessons, but wild animals are animals, and essentially none die
of old age. If we treat them like humans we will ultimately hurt
the species.
Managing
species, not individual animals, reflects the philosophy of most
professional wildlife managers. But this philosophy is in stark
contrast to the radical animal rights activists who do more harm
than good in their misguided attempts to give animals the same rights
as humans.
- LaVarr Webb |
