Though it was my birthday, duty still called me on the 24th. There was a mother duck in a pool with her eleven ducklings (that had hatched that morning). The couple there wanted help capturing them, as they had trouble the year before. Also, the ducks could not stay in a pool full of chlorine. So, my mum and I went to collect the ducks.
I had never been involved with trying to get ducks from a pool before, so I was pretty nervous. I had reread through my Fauna rescue notes on capturing ducks though. I said to try to capture the mother first, but the ducklings were the first to come out of the pool- by one good scoop of the pool cleaning net from the man.
We had read that Pacific Black Ducks (which was what these were) were more likely to abandon their young than other ducks, so we were surprised when the mother hung around. Mum and I grabbed the towels, waited for the mother ducks to come to her ducklings, then did our best to grab hold of her (the plan being to wrap her in a towel and put her in the second cage- we would then relocate them). We had her briefly, but ducks are slippery wriggle- pots. She managed to escape our grasp, and then she was suspicious. We tried a few more times, doing our best to corner her and not stress her out too much; but then she flew over the fence to the street on the other side. I could hear her quacking on the other side of the fence. We waited a few minutes. I then picked up the second basket containing the eleven ducklings and mum and I walked out onto the road. Mother Duck was still there, standing quacking in the middle of the road, and she and her young were still calling out to each other. We tried again to capture the mother, but not for so long; and again she flew off.
I was feeling a little distressed myself now. It was so obvious that the mother wanted to stay with her ducklings; and them her. But we could not catch her. We called Bev Langley of Minton Farm for advice. She suggested walking to a nearby winery where we knew there were other ducks; and the mother would follow the basket containing her brood; but the winery was not within walking distance. She also suggested placing the basket in a place like a garage, so we could trap mother in with her ducklings, but the couple had no place where we could do that. Also, by now, the ducklings were getting fairly stressed.
I watched sadly as the Mother duck flew over the car a couple of times (she could probably hear the ducklings), and then flew out of sight. My mum tried to console me by saying that getting the ducklings was the most important thing. The chlorine was bad for them, and the mother can look after herself; she may even be back in a couple of weeks and lay another clutch. Knowing this, she advised the couple to find the eggs next time and hand them over to someone with an incubator, so the ducklings would hatch elsewhere.
Back home, I set the eleven ducklings up in a box. We made plans with the couple to try to capture the mother in the dark, when she couldn’t see. At the time, she was back swimming in the pool.
A little time later, and I noticed one of the ducklings didn’t look too good. He didn’t move around as much as the others, and looked soaked. My mum reckoned he might have been the one at the bottom of the net when the man scooped them out, meaning it was briefly under water. The ducklings were inside under the light at this time.
Remembering what I did last time a duckling was drenched and looking a little lethargic, I took the ducklings (still in the box) outside and placed them in the sun. I watched the weary duckling closely, making sure the others didn’t trample him, but let them cuddle with him (though most of them were walking around the box). I stroked him and pulled at his feathers very gently, as if I was preening him. This always seemed to get the ducklings to wake up a little. I then took him out of the box and put him in my lap.
After a while, the duckling was dry and a little more awake, but then I found another problem. This duckling, though had been swimming in the pool with the others, was not standing. His legs were splayed a little, his tiny webbed feet resting on either side of his head. His legs felt fine to me, and I tried to get him to straighten them and stand, but he could not. Remembering the deformed duckling from before, I examined this one more closely. I turned him over and my breath caught in my throat.
The two older Pacific Black ducklings that we already had here were going to Minton Farm that day; and I placed the tiny, lethargic duckling into a large shoebox that I had made air-holes in with scissors. Bev would take a look at him too, but my hopes were not up. This little guy would have to be put down.
I did not go with my mum this time, I could not.
When she got home, she told me what I had already suspected. Bev would put the tiny duckling down for us, for it seemed he had disembowelled himself, probably from when he came out of his egg. Now we are down to ten ducklings.
I have never looked after so many ducklings at once, and I had hoped that we would get the mother back, and then release them all somewhere else. We gave the suggestion of putting a couple of chicken eggs into her nest, so she would stay and perhaps sit on them at night, but the couple said she hadn’t been there for over an hour. It seems she has flown off, and will not be back for another couple of weeks, or even until next spring or summer; but it’s likely that she will be back. Ducks, like many other birds, return to the place where they hatched to raise their own family. I don’t think the couple wanted her and all her brood to return to their little yard every year.
So now the ducklings are a few days old, already a little bigger, and will stay here for a couple of weeks. After that we have arrangements with another Fauna Rescue member, that she will take them and look after them. She has a nice little lake on her property that a few other ducks use already. We would have passed them onto Bev, but she tells us she is already inundated with ducklings at the moment.
