There are times when the forces of nature combine with the forces of bureaucracy to bring about a situation so bizarre as to be both absurdly amusing and just plain hard to believe.
Such an incident occurred recently in the life of Mrs. C, a nearby resident of my town living not far from one of the village waterways. One morning her 18-year-old daughter, Lorraine, discovered a large, displaced water fowl lurking deep within the recesses of their front shrubbery. Known as a young woman generous in her love of both domestic and wild animals, Lorraine had managed over the years to transform her mother’s residence into a halfway house for anything wearing fur or feathers.
After several days of attempting to lure the duck out of their bushes, Mrs. C. finally telephoned the Village for assistance. Her call was directed to the Department of Bay Constables who arrived in a large, imposing vehicle, heavily armed. They quickly surrounded the bush, prompting Mrs. C. and both her daughters to wonder if the duck claiming squatter’s rights on their property was wanted on other charges as well.
When the constables could not coax the duck out of its retreat, they proceeded with great care to physically remove it, thereby discovering a cache of eggs snugly nestled where the duck had been planted. Mrs. C.’s family was about to be enlarged. “I told the constables to just bring the duck and her eggs back to the creek,” said Mrs. C., “but they said nothing could be moved until the eggs hatch. I said ‘When will that be?’ and they told me, ‘Twenty-eight days.’ I said, ‘Are you kidding? I’ve got to listen to my dog bark at that bush for 28 days?’ I couldn’t believe it.”
To her further amazement, Mrs. C. was then informed by the constables that if any member of her family attempted to move or disturb either the duck or her eggs, they could be subject to fines or imprisonment under the Federal Wildlife Act. Since ducks are migratory birds they are protected by an agency of the federal government. The constables promised to check regularly to make certain that this particular duck was being properly treated. She was to be fed a diet of cracked corn as well as given a supply of fresh water at all times.
“There’s more,” sighed Mrs. C. “The ducklings will think the first creature they see when they hatch is their mother. If it isn’t the mother duck, they’ll reject her for the impostor and probably die from neglect. So now we have to keep our dog, Cody, away from the bush or he could wind up being the parent of ducklings. And I’m thinking, why my house? Do you know why that duck picked us? Because she knew my daughters would do everything possible to take care of her. Trust me, this is not a stupid duck.”
The house in which the C. family resides now sports a tarp over the front bush to protect its tenant from the elements. Cody the dog is being closely monitored lest he be slapped with a paternity suit. And through all of this Mrs. C. merely shakes her head, wordlessly conceding that once all bets are in, the smart money is on the duck.
Copyright 1997 by author