The idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong with the world.
Paul Farmer
We all know why the chicken crossed the road, but why did the duck freak out in the street?
On our Sunday morning donut run, Tina and I drove past a frantic looking fowl that was continuously running back and forth between the curbside and out into oncoming traffic. I thought for sure duck a l'orange was going to be on the roadkill menu.
Sugar-coated cravings- for the donuts, not the duck- were tossed out the window as we turned around and pulled over to check on the distressed creature. Approaching closer, we could hear a chorus of tiny quacks but their source went unseen. Following the faint sound led us to a ditch drain along the sidewalk and upon further inspection, we could see ten fuzzy little coal colored heads looking skyward, crying out their confusion.
Immediately, Tina laid on the ground and stuck her arm through the rusted grate, trying in earnest to reach them. But the drop was at least 5ft below, making it impossible to even touch the ducklings.
Hoping to obtain the assistance of Animal Control, I dialed 411. However, because it was Sunday, my call was rolled over to the local police department. I quickly explained the situation to the lady dispatcher and simply asked if she knew of a telephone number I might contact for our predicament.
She informed me that even if Animal Control had been open, they would not have helped me since they will only deal with domesticated animals. So she gave me the number for Raleigh's Wildlife Services. Their location is approximately 3hrs away, but I assumed they would put me in touch with someone local.
Thanking her, I hung up and promptly called the 919 number only to be greeted by a gruff voice telling me he knew nothing of wildlife, but did know that I had interrupted is morning sleep-in.
Meanwhile, a few kind strangers had stopped and were all brainstorming rescue plans for the ducklings. One lady parked her van in the middle of the road to slow down traffic since the mother duck was constantly waddling into the street. A gentleman had purchased a 2x4 at the nearby hardware store thinking the babies could use it as a ramp out of the hole, and another lady helped by physically lifting the cast iron grate (she was hella-strong!) so that Tina could slide her body down into the concrete tunnel.
After several other 411 searches, and having zero luck on the phone, I finally called the police department back in hopes of obtaining a proper number for the Wildlife Services. Once again, the same lady answered and I conveyed to her my dilemma, asking if by chance there was an alternate number I could try.
Instead of double checking the number, she began a tirade, vehemently explaining that she had given me the only number she had, that it was the number the police department had been giving out for twenty years, and that it was correct. (I thought that in the time it took for her to say all of that, she could have just repeated the number).
At the end of her defensively toned spiel, she finally gave me the number again, which by the way was different as she has transposed two of the digits. Then she proceeds to tell me that the police department had "real emergencies" to deal with.
I was also very impolitely told that every single squad car and emergency resource available to the city was in current use due to a highly important phone call waiting on the other line. Now, I did not ask for a squad car, a police officer, a fire truck, or even a security guard. All I asked for was a telephone number. A correct telephone number.
Not once did she ask for my name, location, or even my cell because I would hate to think she might actually say something like, "I can't offer you any assistance at the moment, but I may be able to find out something later and call you back at a more convenient time." I guess it's asking to much for common courtesy or civility these days while searching for help.
The ironic thing is while she is describing this supposed apocalyptic, highly important phone call holding on line 2, an actual city police cruiser drives by us. He slows down to a crawl, observes the chaos, but ultimately does not stop. Granted, I am no cop, but one would surmise seeing three vehicles (one parked in the middle of the street), a man with a 2x4, a woman lifting a grate, another woman with half her body inside of a drainage ditch, and a large duck weaving in out of traffic, would at least warrant a "Is everything ok here?" sort of question.
We would also learn later that not 30ft from us atop the hill, sat two police officers playing on their iphones while watching runners go by for a charity 5k in the neighborhood. God help whoever is holding on line 2.
Dialing the correct wildlife number led to an endless menu of options that all ended with, "Our hours of operation are..." So yeah, they were closed.
Finally, the grate was removed completely which allowed Tina to jump fully down into the tunnel. She managed to capture one of the ducklings, but the others waddled away further into the drainage system.
Not to be deterred, Tina knew there had to be an outlet somewhere within the stone-walled labyrinth. Finding her way to a briar-covered culvert, Tina placed the rescued duckling at the above ground exit, using it as bait to coax the mama duck to her.
From this vantage point, the mama duck called out to her babies in a series of quacks. We all held our breath, but slowly a steady procession of nine fluffy heads appeared, making their way through the briars and into the winged embrace of their mother. The victorious reunion was cloaked in elation, and in that moment all was right with the world.
While I was flummoxed by the behavior of the dispatcher and officer, I can still easily believe in the humanity of strangers.
A huge thank you goes out to the man who spent money on an unused board, to the lady who was late for work because she stopped traffic, to the woman with super human strength opening a way, and to the couples that pulled over checking on us, worried we were broke down.
A feathered family of 11 was saved that day. It may not seem significant to most or even to the eco-system, but I have no doubt in the importance of people working collectively.
The cry for help, no matter how small, should always be answered. If two separate species can come together, then surely those of the same cannot be indifferent.
