An Unconventional Upbringing

Carole Sutton

First published in Australian Birdkeeper Magazine (October-November 2000)

Volume 13 Issue 5, and  reproduced with permission from ABKPublication/Australian Birdkeeper Magazine

Only a day old she was tiny ball of brown fluff, with a white stripe above and below her eyes and a small white spur on the tip of her bill. She was alone and running haphazardly in circles in the middle of a country crossroad.

We stopped the car to investigate.  The duckling ran to our feet ‘peep-peeping’ loudly.  My husband picked her up; she was shaking with the cold.  He gave her to me to warm up under my jacket whilst he searched the area for her parents and siblings.  There was no sign of them or even of any stream where they might have gone.  The day was cold and already darkening.  It was doubtful the duckling would survive the night without a mother’s wing to keep her warm.  So, we brought her home.

‘Duck,’ as she became known, spent her first night in a cardboard box of dried grass, with a dish of water, a few breadcrumbs and an infra-red lamp to keep her warm.  The following morning she was perky and very hungry.  Being inexperienced with the needs of baby birds I took her into the garden hoping she would find her own natural food. 

In those early days, walking with Duck was precarious.  She insisted on walking between my feet, as close to my brown, furry boots as our combined movement would allow.  She was determined not to lose her ‘guardians’ a second time. 

One of the drainage ditches we had running across our one-hectare property in the foothills of the Darling Range still contained the remnants of winter rains.  I jumped across it and stopped to watch what she would do.  She scrambled down the bank into the water, and there, she found her element.  She swam, dived, picked flies off the surface of the water and dabbled her beak in the soft muddy patches.  She pulled at the long blades of grass, and peeped her obvious delight and approval the whole time.

 At night it was still too cold to leave Duck out alone, so we brought her in to her cardboard box in the spare room.  Her strident calls of indignation when left alone showed how much she craved company.  Invariably we would give in and bring her into the lounge for a couple of hours.  She would climb up outstretched legs and settle quite happily on someone’s newspaper covered lap for the evening.

Several times a day we walked Duck around the garden to teach her to look for food.  Unsure of how much she was getting, we subsidised her diet with a commercial brand of chicken starter crumbs and lettuce.  She loved lettuce with a passion, pecking pieces off and throwing them over her shoulder, then running to pick them up. 

When the ditch dried up we provided her with an old fibreglass fishpond to swim in.  This was a good source of food too, as it trapped mosquito eggs overnight.  Small flies and spiders provided the meat in her diet.  Instinctively she avoided bees and wasps; ants she spat out angrily, but butterflies had her bemused; she would duck and weave when they flew over. Once, she even ran from a large orange butterfly to hide under my long skirt.

Bosun, our German shepherd was fascinated by this fluffy ball on legs and became very protective. She would watch over Duck as she played in her pond and became terribly anxious when the duckling splashed under the water and had to be stopped from ‘rescuing’ her. To keep Duck safe when we were not around to watch over her, we made an ‘A’ frame wire run, which we put out on the grass and moved daily.

        We encouraged this by running away from her, jumping over the ditches and so on.  Her voice began to change from its high-pitched ‘peep peep’ to a softer ‘ark ark’ sound. 

        At last she could fly properly and one day she soared around the house following the magpies, but she always came back to land at our feet – looking very pleased with her daring.  Inevitably she found the swimming pool, but as she was lacking in the rudiments of hygiene we definitely had to discourage her from using it.

        We were becoming anxious to know what to do with her.  We believed that as a wild creature she should be free to fly with her own kind but at that time we had not seen any of her species on the property.  Unfortunately we could not keep her as a free roaming pet, as by now the dog took exception to her flying away and would jump at her every time she took off or landed and had to be restrained when Duck was about.  We wanted to return her to the wild, but recognised her need for a sheltered environment, at least to start with, as she had no fear of dogs or humans.  We needed a half-way house.

        The zoo had too many wild birds dropping in on their pools, and didn’t want any more they told us.  The Ranger at a local picnic spot, where we had seen her kind before, warned us she would be vulnerable to the yobbos that frequented the place, and who would have not thought twice about kicking a tame duck around.

Next we tried Bellawood Parrot Park in Mandurah some 60 kilometres to the south of us.  The kindly proprietor readily agreed to take Duck in.  Apart from being home to a wide variety of parrots the Bellawood Park boasts a large ornamental pond with waterfalls and fountains surrounded by grassy banks, bushes and brightly coloured flowers. Waterfowl of all kinds have made their home there.

        Duck was twelve weeks old when we set her free from her travelling box.  At first she eyed the strange place warily, then stretched and flapped her wings and set off at walking pace to explore.  She stepped into the large green pond with no hesitation and came face to face for the first time with another duck. 

        At first they chased her.  As she became more used to them she ignored them or swam away, or climbed out of the pond onto the bank.  But her confidence was growing.  She hissed at the black swans and chased the resident small dog. She loved the pond and kept returning to it.   It was bigger and deeper than anything she had known before.  She would dive; swim underwater twisting, turning and building up speed before surfacing and rising straight into the air.  She would fly a few circuits before splashing down again, clearly delighted with her play.

        After a while she came back to find us and followed us when we started to leave.  We led her back to the pond and watched as she returned happily to the water.  The resident ducks were getting used to her and this time they left her alone.

        Later, while she was sitting beneath a shady bush preening her feathers we quietly slipped away.  We had done our best for her.  We had found her a sheltered home where she could be free and yet protected from dangers she knew nothing about.  We had left instruction her wings should not be clipped, so if she wanted to fly away she was free to do so. 

        We telephoned for news of Duck a few days later and learned she had settled in well and was happily following visitors around the garden.  She was a great favourite with the staff, and would turn up at the house for supper every night. 

A few weeks later we learned the best news of all.  That week a small flock of Maned Wood Ducks had flown in and stayed awhile.  When they left our little Duck went with them. 

        She is now back in the wild and we hope, unaffected by her unconventional upbringing. 

For such a tiny creature she left a very large hole in our lives.

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