The struggle on the shoulder
The mother duck presses her chest against the coarse gravel at the edge of the asphalt. A plastic netting is tightly coiled around her body, cinching her feathers against her wings. She stretches her neck upward, beak open, and lets out a series of sharp, rhythmic calls. Her four ducklings cluster close to her side, their yellow downy bodies vibrating as they huddle against her warmth.
A blue sedan sweeps past, wind whipping the mother’s feathers, but she remains anchored to the spot. Her legs are tucked beneath her, immobilized by the tangled mesh. She tries to shift her weight, but the netting pulls taut, anchoring her to the ground. The ducklings peck at the dirt near her feet, periodically chirping in response to her persistent, strained vocalizations.
A halt in traffic
A dark SUV slows down as it approaches the pair. The vehicle rolls to a gentle stop on the shoulder, leaving a clear buffer between the heavy machinery and the birds. A man exits the driver’s side door, his eyes fixed on the small family huddled against the road. He walks toward them with a measured, calm gait, his footsteps crunching softly on the loose stones.
The man lowers himself to a crouch, his knees resting in the gravel. He pauses for a moment, keeping his movements fluid and slow to avoid spooking the mother. His hands hover briefly over the netting before he finds a loose edge of the plastic material. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of small scissors, the metal glinting in the daylight.
The careful release
He grips the mesh with one hand, pulling it slightly away from the duck’s body to create a pocket of space. With his other hand, he maneuvers the blades of the scissors, snipping through the fibers. The plastic strands pop as they are severed, one by one. The man moves with intense focus, his jaw set, keeping the blades pressed against the net rather than the duck’s feathers.
With a final tug, he peels the last of the netting away from the mother’s wing. The duck shifts her weight, her body finally free from the restriction of the plastic. She extends her wings, flapping them once to regain her balance. The man reaches into a bag nearby and spills a small pile of food onto the pavement. He places a hand near the ground, palm open, as the mother duck and her four ducklings waddle forward to gather the scattered grains.
The man remains in his crouch, his hands resting near his knees while the birds feed. He watches the mother move along the gravel, her ducklings trailing in a tight line behind her. The mother duck dips her beak into the food, then turns her head toward the water beside the road. She takes a step, the ducklings following in lockstep, and moves toward the edge of the pond. She glides into the water, and the four ducklings scramble to join her, their yellow forms drifting away from the shore.
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