RICHARD
07-01-2003, 01:56 PM
Make Way For Ducklings
A Rush-Hour Crowd Stops For Just a Waddle While
By David Montgomery
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, June 28, 2003; Page C01
They came strolling down the sidewalk of 15th Street NW, as purposeful as any commuters at rush hour yesterday morning -- a mother duck trailed by four ducklings.
The mother shook her tail bossily and slapped her webbed feet down the pavement. The young ones scurried after, wheeling their short legs three paces for every one of Mom's strides. Mom was brown with white tracings -- probably a mallard. Her babies were yellow-and-brown puffballs with black stripes extending from their black eyes as if they were wearing sunglasses.
Clearly on a mission, the solemn column of ducks did not look left, and did not look right, just like the serious people hurrying to work around them, all self-absorbed.
Until Mother and babies headed across L Street -- into a raging river of cars.
"Oh my God!"
"Ducks!"
"Awwwwwww."
Passerby Pat Getter shot into the street after the ducks, yelling at cars "Stop! Stop! Stop!" She threw up her hands as though she were facing down tanks.
The drivers hit the brakes, annoyed, then smiling.
Where did they come from? Where were they going? How could they possibly make it?
This scene is common this time of year, according to animal control specialists. Urbanized ducks are getting clever at flying into the concrete jungle and hatching families under the noses of unsuspecting humans, in planters, under hedges. What they haven't figured out is how to complete that ancient post-hatching imperative: the first trip to water. The journey must be made on foot, because the babies can't fly for a few months.
So ducks are out walking all over the region following the springtime hatching period. Lots of times they don't make it. The parents (sometimes duck dads stick around, sometimes they don't) at the head of these processions get whacked by cars when they step off curbs, then the babies starve.
Just yesterday morning, D.C. Animal Control had brought half a dozen rescued ducklings to Second Chance Wildlife Center in Gaithersburg, according to Jim Monsma, with animal control. He says hundreds are rescued in the city every year, but it would be impossible to save all the ducklings in trouble without overwhelming the rescue system. "I try to be judicious," he said. "When you have all these people who want to make sure every single duckling survives, it's not so sustainable."
Dave Fournelle of Second Chance said if you see ducks on the move, it's best to leave intact families where they are. If ducks are injured or ducklings orphaned, you can bring them to Second Chance, which will raise and release them.
Every move the D.C. Mother Duck made yesterday morning was downhill. Literally. Did she know with unerring duck wisdom that downhill leads to water, eventually? Was she heading for the Potomac?
After Getter got her safely to the other side of L Street, she and the kids crossed a parking lot and entered a parking garage, taking the down ramp. Dead end. No water.
By now a protective circle of humans was moving along with the ducks. Getter was frantic on her cell phone, punching up 911, then various animal rescue agencies: "There are ducks walking in traffic!" "There are ducks walking in traffic!''
The Washington Humane Society said it couldn't help. A representative later explained to a reporter that it deals only with cruelty cases. D.C. Animal Control took her report and was monitoring the situation, Monsma said later.
So it was up to the busy people no longer on their way to work and no longer so serious. Now they had a mission, too.
Someone dashed into the Cosi at 15th and K for a sesame roll to feed them. The ducks turned up their bills. They flapped into the pink impatiens in a sidewalk planter. Mother's quacks sounded like hoarse pants. "Quahhhhk-quahhhhk. Quahhhhk-quahhhhk."
"Oh, they are so traumatized," fretted another one of the humans, Jennifer Helburn.
Mother decided to resume the march. Getter, Helburn and the protective circle stopped six lanes of traffic. The city fell silent and still as the ducks crossed K Street.
In McPherson Square, Mother accepted bread from the men on the benches.
On I Street, Helburn threw herself in front of a Metro bus, which halted.
Mother poked her bill into the Export-Import Bank of the United States. No water there. She led the way over a metal grate in the sidewalk. With her big webbed feet she had no problem, but the ducklings' tiny webs fell through and they tumbled and rolled.The ducklings grew tired. By H Street, one of them could no longer hop over curbs. A man in shirt and tie scooped it onto the sidewalk.
The humans heard splashing. Maybe the ducks did, too, because they started racing.
It was a fountain in Lafayette Square.
Mother scrambled up the curved lip and belly-flopped in.
One-two-three-four puffballs followed: Their first swim.
Mission accomplished.
Getter, a communications executive with CropLife America, and Helburn, communications director for the National Abortion Federation, hadn't known each before their duck dilemma. Now they were emotional. Getter brushed back a tear.
"I realize you can't save all of them all the time," she said, "but when you're in a position to try, then you owe it to them to try."
Later, Monsma and Fournelle said they doubted Lafayette Square would provide enough food for the ducks. So they guessed the family will be on the move again soon.
For now, Mother took a long drink, and the babies sipped and paddled about. Then Mother plunged her head deep under the surface and shook her tail, bossily.
A Rush-Hour Crowd Stops For Just a Waddle While
By David Montgomery
Washington Post Staff Writer
Saturday, June 28, 2003; Page C01
They came strolling down the sidewalk of 15th Street NW, as purposeful as any commuters at rush hour yesterday morning -- a mother duck trailed by four ducklings.
The mother shook her tail bossily and slapped her webbed feet down the pavement. The young ones scurried after, wheeling their short legs three paces for every one of Mom's strides. Mom was brown with white tracings -- probably a mallard. Her babies were yellow-and-brown puffballs with black stripes extending from their black eyes as if they were wearing sunglasses.
Clearly on a mission, the solemn column of ducks did not look left, and did not look right, just like the serious people hurrying to work around them, all self-absorbed.
Until Mother and babies headed across L Street -- into a raging river of cars.
"Oh my God!"
"Ducks!"
"Awwwwwww."
Passerby Pat Getter shot into the street after the ducks, yelling at cars "Stop! Stop! Stop!" She threw up her hands as though she were facing down tanks.
The drivers hit the brakes, annoyed, then smiling.
Where did they come from? Where were they going? How could they possibly make it?
This scene is common this time of year, according to animal control specialists. Urbanized ducks are getting clever at flying into the concrete jungle and hatching families under the noses of unsuspecting humans, in planters, under hedges. What they haven't figured out is how to complete that ancient post-hatching imperative: the first trip to water. The journey must be made on foot, because the babies can't fly for a few months.
So ducks are out walking all over the region following the springtime hatching period. Lots of times they don't make it. The parents (sometimes duck dads stick around, sometimes they don't) at the head of these processions get whacked by cars when they step off curbs, then the babies starve.
Just yesterday morning, D.C. Animal Control had brought half a dozen rescued ducklings to Second Chance Wildlife Center in Gaithersburg, according to Jim Monsma, with animal control. He says hundreds are rescued in the city every year, but it would be impossible to save all the ducklings in trouble without overwhelming the rescue system. "I try to be judicious," he said. "When you have all these people who want to make sure every single duckling survives, it's not so sustainable."
Dave Fournelle of Second Chance said if you see ducks on the move, it's best to leave intact families where they are. If ducks are injured or ducklings orphaned, you can bring them to Second Chance, which will raise and release them.
Every move the D.C. Mother Duck made yesterday morning was downhill. Literally. Did she know with unerring duck wisdom that downhill leads to water, eventually? Was she heading for the Potomac?
After Getter got her safely to the other side of L Street, she and the kids crossed a parking lot and entered a parking garage, taking the down ramp. Dead end. No water.
By now a protective circle of humans was moving along with the ducks. Getter was frantic on her cell phone, punching up 911, then various animal rescue agencies: "There are ducks walking in traffic!" "There are ducks walking in traffic!''
The Washington Humane Society said it couldn't help. A representative later explained to a reporter that it deals only with cruelty cases. D.C. Animal Control took her report and was monitoring the situation, Monsma said later.
So it was up to the busy people no longer on their way to work and no longer so serious. Now they had a mission, too.
Someone dashed into the Cosi at 15th and K for a sesame roll to feed them. The ducks turned up their bills. They flapped into the pink impatiens in a sidewalk planter. Mother's quacks sounded like hoarse pants. "Quahhhhk-quahhhhk. Quahhhhk-quahhhhk."
"Oh, they are so traumatized," fretted another one of the humans, Jennifer Helburn.
Mother decided to resume the march. Getter, Helburn and the protective circle stopped six lanes of traffic. The city fell silent and still as the ducks crossed K Street.
In McPherson Square, Mother accepted bread from the men on the benches.
On I Street, Helburn threw herself in front of a Metro bus, which halted.
Mother poked her bill into the Export-Import Bank of the United States. No water there. She led the way over a metal grate in the sidewalk. With her big webbed feet she had no problem, but the ducklings' tiny webs fell through and they tumbled and rolled.The ducklings grew tired. By H Street, one of them could no longer hop over curbs. A man in shirt and tie scooped it onto the sidewalk.
The humans heard splashing. Maybe the ducks did, too, because they started racing.
It was a fountain in Lafayette Square.
Mother scrambled up the curved lip and belly-flopped in.
One-two-three-four puffballs followed: Their first swim.
Mission accomplished.
Getter, a communications executive with CropLife America, and Helburn, communications director for the National Abortion Federation, hadn't known each before their duck dilemma. Now they were emotional. Getter brushed back a tear.
"I realize you can't save all of them all the time," she said, "but when you're in a position to try, then you owe it to them to try."
Later, Monsma and Fournelle said they doubted Lafayette Square would provide enough food for the ducks. So they guessed the family will be on the move again soon.
For now, Mother took a long drink, and the babies sipped and paddled about. Then Mother plunged her head deep under the surface and shook her tail, bossily.