We found a duck.
He stood on our bench in the corner of the diner and looked eye level directly at me. He had small round bead eyes, a white semicircular bill and he stood tall on wide webbed feet.
The duck was very cute, was covered in what looked more like white fur than feathers. I wanted to pet him but I was afraid he might bite.
Caren Nicole gave me a white bath towel to protect my hand but though wary, I stroked the top of his head without using the towel. And when I held it up to him he bit into it, held the soft towel in his bill, while I continued to stroke him. It was to show me that he wouldn’t bite.
“We got to get him out of here,” I said, so we we left the diner and he followed us out into the park.
At first I did not think he would follow us, but when we coaxed him he kept up. We passed a group of people having a cook out on a park bench and Caren Nicole cried out, ”God I can’t stand that.” She pointed out one of the guys, “acting all happy when he’s always mean at work!”
We continued through the park until we hit the road that we would have to cross. And we were crossing at the roundabout with the duck slightly ahead of us when a red double decker drove into our path.
The bus driver could not see the duck and we cried out, ”Noooo…! Mind the duck!”
The duck panicked, got confused and the bus driver span her steering wheel around to avoid him, only to spin the bus round in circles instead. And the duck tried to turn back but the bus was now in the way and hid him from view. I watched as the duck twisted his foot, slow motion, as the tire drove over it.
“No!” I cried in pain.
Then the bus drove on, with the duck left standing, startled, in the middle of the road. He had a tire mark, a streak, across the grey webbing of his right foot; otherwise he was unharmed.
“Thank God!” I said.
We brought the duck back to the pavement and put him in a kid sized Radio Flyer wagon. You could see immediately, he was happier there.
“I think my kids’ Jewish kindergarten will take him,” suggested Caren Nicole, so we started out for their school, pulled the wagon along, with the duck stood up straight in the back.
Once we arrived, we had to take him up three big concrete steps to the entrance. At the top, the door was open and I could see a long brightly lit hallway. Soft, yellow lighting, it looked inviting and it made me hopeful that they would take him.
I announced to the duck, “Hold on… we got to go up some steps.” Then I tilted the wagon so that we could get him up.
As we climbed, I sang ”bumpity, bumpity, bump!” and the wagon bumped up each step, until we reached a black childproof gate at the top. But before we could open the gate a boy, dropped off by his father, bounded up the steps, and pushed past us.
Perhaps we could follow him in, I thought.
Photo by Maren Winter via Wikimedia Commons
