We recently had a bittersweet couple of days. As the kids were playing outside, they heard strange noises coming from a storm drain at the edge of our driveway. They were delighted to find these little guys:
We weren't sure what happened, but we were fairly certain they fell into the drain while following Mama and were unable to get out. With the help of a sweet neighbor, we rescued them, put them in a dog kennel and wondered what on earth to do with four baby ducklings. The kids doted on them as if they were their own offspring, and I knew that when the day came to say goodbye to them, it would be a traumatic process. Fate handled that for me, and as bittersweet as it was, I knew it was for the best. We took the ducklings, in their carrier, out on our front deck, and they hatched an escape plan. We tried to capture them again, to no avail. And off they went, into another storm unit, probably leading to the golf course across the street. Hopefully they reunited with Mama or some other duck with a big heart who would be willing to take them in.
The children were heartbroken, M not leaving her room all day, and although it was understandable, part of me was relieved that their love for the ducklings had only had one day to take root in their little hearts. Any longer and any separation would likely have been unbearable. What a joy it was to have them, even for such a short time. It's part of life, learning to let go. But no one ever said it was easy.
