Dad said he and Mom were grandparents—duck grandparents, that is. For the second year in a row, a mama duck came to make a little nest and lay her eggs in a small bush in front of the house. Of course, at first I watched the duck from the sidelight, thinking of how delicious she might be, but then this whole family thing came up. If Mom and Dad are grandparents then I guess the duck is like my foster sister or something and it’s probably not appropriate to eat family members.
Soon after, I thought perhaps I would make a great protector if she left the nest to find something to eat, but I never had the chance to prove myself outside. Because of this, I just practiced looking ferocious through the sidelight or the screen door if the inside door was open.
Early last week, my fluffy, fuzzy nieces and nephews hatched from the shelter of their little eggs. I’m not sure how many there were, because while they were dancing around celebrating their birthday, the mama duck was lifting her wings and trying to herd them underneath where she could keep them safe. Like I was saying, if I’d had a chance, I would’ve liked to get out there to help. Oh well. Mom did snap a picture of a couple of the ducklings peeking out from under their mama.
During the night she must have taken her little family, waddling after her to the nearby pond, so they could begin their life in the big world. I couldn’t get over how yummy, er, I mean, cute they were. Hopefully the ducklings will be safe from all the other predators wherever they are. All we found left in the nest was one eggshell. The mystery is how the other shells disappeared.
That is the tale of how I became a foster aunt, for a short time anyways. “Aunt Lily,” I like the sound of that!