Heaven/Hell

Quivering with the exuberant joy of lives only two days old, each one creating mini-ripples on the surface. How does it feel for a duck to float in water for the first time? To discover seemingly endless delights to eat, right beneath their furiously paddling palmate feet? All oblivious to the threats of the large Herons and voracious Wood Storks that would happily swallow the entire crew, 13 of them in a single all-you-can-eat buffet. Each duckling goes down whole with one upturned gulp, the Stork’s neck pulsing slightly with tiny feet pushing outward, mid-swallow.

The pull of my dogs on yesterday’s walk first alerted me to the new mother. She stood defiantly in the weeds next to the water’s edge with her wings outstretched, an umbrella protecting her hatchlings from stumbling alone out into what would be certain death.

Today was different. It was their celebration of life, the best of the best, their excitement almost palatable.

My hope is that they become the rare exception, that most of them live to be fat old Muscovy’s with broods of their own.

And then there were none.

It’s as if she’s almost expecting her brood to come swimming back up to her or to pop joyfully out of the weeds. But she stood in the exact same place yesterday when the dogs and I passed. Somewhat stoic, perhaps stunned from what was most likely a frantic encounter with a predator, probably several.

Yesterday there was still one left, running side to side at the top of the spillway, peeping frantically for mom or sibs. Apparently Mom didn’t hear or maybe had no way to rescue the chick. I told Carla that there would be no sign of that one by this morning, and there wasn’t.

So now she stands alone.

Five days and gone. Life is exhilaration and terror, black and white, with every conceivable shade in between.

This is heaven, this is hell.