all creatures great and small

For months I've been pleading the ducks' case, their frozen feathered tails my cause. Daily I'd pass their pond on my walk home, each time wishing I knew how to knit. If they're stupid enough to stick out the Utah winter, they may as well have wing-mittens, right? And perhaps a small, snug cap, too? On dark nights I'd wander back to their small corner of campus, bringing the last of my bread in a small offering of my sympathy.

Turns out, they didn't need any sort of protection from the ice and the snow. Oh, no. They need saving from themselves.

Tonight, Zamora and I witnessed a near-homicide, a scene that will reside in nightmare nooks for weeks. What started as yet another innocent food donation became an all-out rescue mission, complete with irrational screaming and just short of 911.

With the last of our bread tossed to the quacking masses, we'd turned towards home, hands curled into pockets, seeking warmth. We were laughing about the latest twists in a whirlwind romance when the commotion behind us grew even louder and, turning around, we were just in time to see a flurry of feathers streak from pondside to pondside, landing right at our feet. There were three of them, two large white ones double-teaming a scrawny brown, beaks digging into backs and webbed feet kicking into the air. Within seconds they'd dragged the victim into the water, bills now on neck, pushing the poor thing under.

At first, we only stood there, completely stunned. Then, my years of Pet Vet training kicking in, I jumped into the fray. Swiping a stick from the dirt, I rushed to the pond bank, slashing my weapon furiously at the water. Zamora was close behind, gathering bark chips and small pebbles, aiming directly into the fight. For five long minutes we kept it up, but the ducks seemed unfazed. The small brown was surely drowned by now; we hadn't seen him surface the entire time. We were beginning to panic.

Suddenly, he shot out of the water! Right past us! Up and into the air! He only made it a few feet beyond the soggy shore, but it was enough. Zamora and I instantly rushed at the horrible birds that now tried to follow, scaring them back into the pond and finally to the opposite shore. We returned to our dear duck a moment later, only to find him trembling uncontrollably and unable to walk fully. Pretty sure we were just as shaken up, completely horrified as we were. We stayed only long enough to make sure our little one kept safe and sound, and then we ran home, fast.

I am so done with the duck pond.