A Lone Traveler In The Rain
The tiny yellow ball of down flattens its body against the wet, dark asphalt. Its head bobs slightly, the bill pressing into the gravel at the very edge of the road. Rain-filled ruts stretch out into the distance, turning the grassy verge into a collection of muddy mirrors.
The duckling remains perfectly still, its feet tucked beneath its fuzzy frame. It does not move toward the vegetation or back toward the safety of the field. It simply stares at the ground, its body shivering slightly as the damp wind pulls at its soft feathers. A truck tire print is visible in the mud nearby, a stark reminder of the danger lurking just inches away.
A Moment Of Recognition
A pair of hiking boots step into the frame, halting just inches from the small creature. The person in the navy rain jacket lowers herself until her knees hit the wet pavement. Her hands extend, palms open and fingers spread, hovering just above the duckling’s back.
She makes no sudden movements. Her voice is soft and low as she speaks, the sounds barely audible over the light rain. She reaches down, cupping her hands around the bird’s body. Her thumbs rest gently against its sides, feeling the frantic rhythm of its small heart against her palms. The duckling remains quiet as she slowly lifts it off the ground.
Warming The Cold Passenger
She tucks the duckling against her chest, pulling the fabric of her coat tighter to trap the warmth. Her arms wrap around it like a protective shell, her chin brushing the top of its head. The duckling begins to nuzzle deeper into the wool layer beneath her jacket, seeking shelter from the biting air.
She stands up, keeping the bird pressed firmly against her torso. She turns, walking toward the wooden steps of a nearby house. Her gaze stays fixed on the small bundle in her hands, her brow smoothing as she notes the bird’s posture relaxing within her grasp. She walks past the mud puddles and toward the door.
Safe From The Elements
She steps onto the wooden porch, her boots thudding softly against the planks. The duckling stays tucked securely against her, its eyes closing as it nestles into the heat of her coat. She continues toward the entrance, her expression focused on ensuring the small creature stays dry and stable.
She reaches the threshold of the home. She adjusts her grip slightly, her fingers stroking the soft down on the duckling’s back one last time as she prepares to step inside. The door opens to reveal the interior of the cabin. She crosses the threshold, the warmth of the home enveloping them both as the camera lingers on her steady, rhythmic steps.