Duck Walk

The two-lane street that leads from our neighborhood eventually sprouts into a five-lane avenue that we drive to work. At a point along the way, one side is bordered by new, well-landscaped warehouses. Facing them on the opposite side are a golf course, park and lovely lake.

One morning as Mike drove to the office alone, he noticed that all lanes of traffic had halted across from the lake. He slowed to a stop and, seeing no evidence of a wreck, rolled down his window to get a better look at the probable cause.

And there it was.

A family of ducks – mama, dad and six babies – had wandered into the busy street and now seemed confused and frightened about what to do next. Blessedly, all the drivers patiently waited for the duck family to waddle toward safety. The ducks started and stopped a few times with babies trying to keep up as they moved in a circle in the center turn lane. One awkward, fat, fuzzy duckling lost his balance and plopped over sideways, paddling his tiny feet in the air until he managed to right himself.

No drivers leaned out windows to yell. No horns honked. No car edged toward the family.

Finally, a driver ahead of Mike got out of his car, quietly approached the family and began herding them toward the lake side of the street. At last with a goal in sight, poppa duck led the way. Six babies marched behind him in straight formation, and mama brought up the rear monitoring her offspring to ensure that none wandered off to chase a butterfly.

Only when the little family’s webbed feet had reached grass did the smiling onlookers shift into drive and continue toward their destinations.

My faith in mankind is restored.