A couple of days ago, while walking around a lake, I saw a mother duck with twelve precious little ducklings under the low-hanging branches of a tree. I told my daughter about them, and she recounted a recent experience she had at a theme park in Orlando, Florida.
She and her friends were walking with a throng of thrill-seekers along a roadway, when they observed a mother duck with her brood of little ducklings, waddling underfoot in the busy, passing crowd. One of the baby ducklings was lagging behind, peeping at the top of its tiny lungs, while the mother kept looking back, squawking loudly to the little straggler.
But the peeps and squawks were to no avail. The hoard of people kept walking, unaware of the dilemma taking place beneath their unrelenting pace. My daughter and her friends “ooh’d and ahh’d,” and pined with compassion over the lagging duckling’s terrifying plight. They stopped to watch the outcome.
The mother duck guided her babies to the safety of the underside of a bench, where no unsuspecting, busy passers-by would harm them. She gave them some loud squawks as if to say, “Stay here!” Then she dodged into the treacherous walkway, squawking all the way until she reached her lost babe.
She guided the bewildered duckling – through the unsuspecting, pounding feet – to the safety of its siblings under the park bench. All was well with the world once more. My daughter and her friends rejoiced with the reunion and marveled together at this courageous mother’s love.
True love, for sure.