Gaggles of geese and ducks abound around me. Paying no attention to me as I pick my way thru the throng, they are busy with each other. Gently clutching this tiny ball of fluffy feathers screeching his head off, I am casting my eyes around. There is so much flapping of wings spread wide. Necks stretched skywards, tail feathers shaking, little goslings and ducklings scurrying around. Squawking and screeching, honking and hissing, deafening cacophony. It is mating season at the lagoon, and the ducks and geese have eyes only for each other and their fledgling broods.   A handful of people walking around enjoying the spectacle, relishing being ignored by this mass of birds. Tasty tidbits on palms held out receive scant attention—not a glance. One can hardly think in all this clamor. But I do need to find a family for my little fuzzball.

I pick my way thru this crowd; a few ducks look up at the screaming chick trying to escape my grasp. Mama ducks glance up at the shrill little guy, turning away with almost a ‘no, not mine’ shrug.   Amazing how they know! Like they recognize their babies from the sounds they make.   In my ignorant way, I had thought of mixing this little ball of fuzz with another duck’s family. No, no, no! This is not going to work. No other duck family will adopt him—they may even attack and peck him to death. How did I get into this shrieking cackling mess?

It all started earlier this morning. I am awakened by loud quacking, sheer panic in every quack. Hurriedly looking out the window, I spot a duck standing in the middle of the cross-streets at the corner of my apartment. I rush out, pulling on a pair of shorts and a tee. Getting close to the duck, I hear faint chirps emerging from the sewer grate next to the curb. Squinting down, I see three little ducklings who have fallen in through the grating. A kid on a bike stops by and peers down the sewer as well. Looking up at me, he exclaims, “There are three of them!” I try lifting the grate, but it is embedded firmly in the dirt. I hear a garage door opening behind me—my neighbor returning from his early morning golf. Rolling down the window, he wants to know what’s up.

He brings a crowbar from the garage, and we try to pry the grating loose—it does not budge. Watching all this commotion from his window, another neighbor comes out. With more hands on deck (actually on the crowbar) and the kid helping out directing slowing down traffic, we are able to lift the grating from its frame. I reach down and grab one little duckling and set it on the street, glancing at the duck waiting patiently with her small brood clustered around her.

The other two chicks are further down in the sewer, and I gingerly step into the sliminess and climb down. I see one chick deeper swimming in the shallow water while the other within reach dodges me. I go after it grabbing rocks on the slimy, slippery sides of the drain. It is slow going, but after a couple of tries, I grasp the chick and hand it over my head to a few hands reaching down. I hear a chorus of cheers and loud clapping.   I pause and step deeper to retrieve the third little guy. I almost reach the water and realize it is not as shallow as it looked, and the current is not slow either. I simulate a soft cheep-cheep but no sight of Number Three—it looks like it has been swept away. Sadly, I climb out of the slippery sewer, and we lift the grating back into its frame. One of the neighbors hands me the little fellow. We look around, and the duck is nowhere to be seen. Mama Duck is not good at counting. I look at the small crowd, and they smilingly say, ‘well done – he is all yours’ even as they move on to the rest of their day.

Well, the duck couldn’t have gotten very far with her little brood, the thought raced through my mind, and I need to go look for her. Back in the apartment, the duckling is busy swimming up and down the length of the tub while I half-fill a dishpan with water. With the dishpan and the chick on the floor of the car on the passenger side, I back the car out of the driveway. I drive slowly, taking care not to slosh the water too much, towards a little creek behind the apartments. My eyes sweep the road and sidewalks for the duck and her trailing brood. A short scanning walk around them but no sign of the duck or the chicks. Not sure what to do next until in a flash of brilliance points me to the lagoon—a perfect spot swarming with ducks and geese. Perhaps one of the many duck families will adopt this little guy. A short drive to the lagoon, park, retrieve the dripping little fellow from the dishpan and look around.

As expected, it is teeming with ducks, geese, and little chicks, squawking, screeching, and calling out to each other, completely oblivious to the few people trying to pick their way thru the feathered multitude. Again, how did I get into this freaking mess?

A woman standing nearby smiles and says, “The strangest thing happened to us this morning.” Quizzically I look at her. Her family had spotted a duck and her ducklings crossing their backyard. They had run outside and managed to entice and trap the entire duck family into a huge cardboard box. Whoa! And they live just two blocks from me. Whoa again! It has to be this fuzz ball’s family. The woman offers to walk me to the far end of the lagoon where the father and children are releasing their precious cargo into the water. As we reach them, the duck, trailed by her brood, is already several feet away from the edge. The little fellow is still squawking his head off, and the Mama duck sharply turns her head towards us. Recognizing his voice as one of hers, she wheels around and swiftly comes to the water’s edge. Gently I let go of the little guy into the water, and Mama escorts her lost one back to the brood. Silently we take in this moment—goosebumps and all. We look at each other, smiling and nodding at a job well done. I return to my car to the empty dishpan, full of wonder, amazed, and still incredulous. Mama duck recognizing her little one’s frantic squawk restores one’s faith in nature.

For the rest of the semester, almost every day, I visit my duck family carrying a small bribe—a bag of popcorn. Each day my friend spies me and promptly comes to the water’s edge with her brood. I toss a few kernels into the water amidst her and her brood. Mama gets busy circling, shooing away other ducks, while the chicks get busy grabbing and feeding. The message is clear—I am her special friend, and this popcorn is for her babies only. I sit on the grass, a little ways away, and watch her for a while before returning. Within a few days, Mama waddles out of the water towards me, pecks at the empty popcorn bag gives me a questioning look. I hear ya, Mama. Your chicks are growing and need more popcorn. And the daily bag grows in size.

Occasionally I pop a kernel or two in my mouth. One time Mama waddles up to me and snaps the kernel mid-air as I flip it towards my open mouth. Stunned,  I looked around—a couple sitting nearby laughs out loud.

And then, in late summer, my sister’s family arrives from Ottawa with her two little kids, Vanita and Nalin, ages four and two. They reach late in the evening, with the setting sun. Hopping out of the car, both want nothing more than to visit the baby ducklings and their Mama. Light is fading fast—we arrive at the lagoon with not a soul in sight. Our eyes sweep over the lagoon, and I spy Mama and her caravan gliding serenely in the darkening distance. Nalin and Vanita see them as well – both yell in unison. Mama duck hears the commotion. Recognizing me instantly, she swiftly wheels towards us, her brood following suit. The little procession reached us amidst a flurry of thrilling elation. Vanita and Nalin’s voices are down to whispered excitement. The ducklings eagerly surround the popcorn-bearing children while Mama pecks my hands in thanks. The ducklings, fed and satiated, take off while Vanita and Nalin blow kisses and wave goodbyes. We head back home in a high, happy haze.

Little do I know this would be my last encounter with the duck family. School closes for the Break, and I return to the lagoon a few times after it reopens. But I do not see my duck family again.

Many summers have come and gone since this unforgettable one. A few times, Mama duck has visited me in dreams—I am back at the lagoon, and Mama is waddling towards me. I panic—I have no popcorn. And each time, I awaken before she reaches me.