A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Support Group Meeting . . .

You can file this under "Shit That Only Happens to Me."

So yesterday my friend A and I went to Delano for one of my surgeon's WLS support meetings. A is in the process of getting approved for the DS and needed to attend one of the meetings to satisfy Dr. K's requirement of support group attendance before surgery. Traffic was really heavy, and in between Tehachapi and Bakersfield, there's this long stretch where there's a large grassy median between the two sides. We're trucking along, when all of a sudden people start slowing down and then suddenly braking. Oh crap. Then we see it.

A couple cars ahead, there was this sudden explosion of feathers. And mixed in with the feathers were all these tiny ducklings flying everywhere! Seriously, people, it looked like one of those cartoon explosions when somebody gets hit with a hammer and stars and little birds are flying around. Except this time it was feathers and tiny ducklings.

A and I are shrieking, "Don't hit the ducklings! Don't hit the ducklings!" as we drive through the feathers. We look at each other and A says, "Should we go back and check?" Oh hells, yeah! So we flip a bitch across the median, flip another one after where the feather pile was, pull over and run on back. Mama duck and one duckling are toast - roadkill pizza. But there, hiding in the grass, are seven other little guys, peeping their little hearts out. Half squeak and half peep as it were.

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We chase them around the median (thank God it's large), manage to get six of them, while the seventh runs across the highway into the really high grass on the other side. A dashes over and tries to find him but there was just no way she could see him. She comes back over and we find a soft-sided cooler in her car to stash the little guys in. They're a bit shook up, and are VERY loud about their distress. No apparent injuries. They're still downy so there's no way they could have survived on their own at this stage without mama.

When we got to the meeting, I called The Husband to let him know that we were okay. He asked if there was any drama on the trip over because he knows how icky the traffic to Bakersfield can get, and I said, "Ummm, well, there were a lot of cars on the road, but, ummm, we rescued six ducklings cause their mama got hit and I'm bringing them home." I could just picture the stunned look on his face. To his credit, he didn't say anything but, "I'll get the brooder ready."

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We leave the ducklings in the cooler (with the lid open) and the windows partially down while we go to our meeting. We come back to the car, and lo and behold, they had all jumped out, of course. So we spent about 10 minutes chasing the little buggers around the car with flashlights to corral them all and then another ten minutes cleaning up the messes they made. Half a dozen ducklings really poop alot in an hour's time, people!

I got home around 10 p.m., and the brooder was all set up with hay, water, food and a light for them. This morning all six were huddled together, a bit cold, but alive and they had eaten about half of the food and drank a whole lot of water, so I think they'll make it.

After last week's debacle with the premature newborn lamb that I couldn't save, this was a good balm to soothe my animal husbandry side. Make way for Ducklings!

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