The Ducks of Rotary Lake, Auburn, Nebraska
Copyright © 2005 Theresa Gabriel
Nature teaches me, and that's what I write about. My first
great lesson from nature was in the summer of '88 while on a
weekend motorcycle trip with my new husband, Leonard. We
visited Brownville and Auburn Nebraska, known for Indian Caves,
local theatre and antique shops.
We stayed in a small locally owned motel adjacent to Rotary Park,
which was gift from the local Rotary Club. It has a small
wandering lake surrounded by grass, trees, park benches and
ducks. We walked out to the park with journals in hand to have
quiet time to write and relax. I took a park bench near the
water's edge. Although this man-made lake was edged by a stone
curb, there was a small ramp near the bench which provided
shallow water for a mother duck and six tiny yellow ducklings.
A goose, which I dubbed "Uncle Goose" was always nearby and
obviously a part of the family.
Mother duck seemed intent upon keeping her duckies in the
shallow. I sat and watched them paddle around, Mother squawking
now and then at the ever-wandering chicks. Leonard and I
enjoyed the pastoral morning scene.
All of a sudden, all hell broke loose. Mother was squawking up
a storm and flapping her wings. The duckies were in a flurry
headed for shore.
Leonard stood and pointed toward the water. "It's gone!"
"What's gone?" I gasped, confused.
"It's gone! I was watching a duckling there and it's just gone!"
We walked over to the edge. The ducks were up on shore now,
still making a racket. We looked down into the water. I saw a
little duckie under water, its head two to three inches below
the surface, straining for air. A big bubble came from its tiny
beak.
Leonard said "Reach in and get it."
Slightly amused that he wanted me to reach in, yet sensing a
great urgency, I knelt down and stuck my hand into the water. I
heard music from "Jaws." I hesitantly reached down just below
the duckie's head and pulled a bit. Realizing this wouldn't work,
I reached down further and held it from just under its body. I
pulled, knowing that some terrible creature was very near my
fingers. The tension was released I pulled quickly. The duckie
came out in my hand, followed very quickly by a turtle - flying
into the air a full five inches from the water before falling
back in.
I looked the duckie over. No broken legs. Head still attached.
I brought it over to the shaken family, ten feet away, still
running around and making noise. Mother looked it over, and
then walked away for a bit, squawking and irritated. The trauma
of finding the chick seemed almost as great as losing it.
We left the lake soon after that, but returned the next morning.
I was so proud that I had saved the life of one of the six
duckies, and wanted to check in on them. I was shocked when I
saw only four duckies. Two were gone! The turtle! I looked at
them more closely. Was one of them the one I saved? Was he one
of the victims? There was no way to know, and my heart fell.
As we settled in again with our journals, we watched Uncle Goose
and Mother take the remaining children for a journey out across
the lake. The chicks seemed to love it, but when there was a
large splash in the water close behind the last one in line, the
four darted to Mother, and stayed right with her. After the
swim, Mother led the duckies across the grass and through a
shack to a small fenced pond. While they were gone, we
discussed the disappearing duckies. Five minutes later, the
group returned. Mother was followed by only three duckies. So
fast! Another one gone!
We understood the problem. The small fenced-in duckling pond
had been infested by turtles, and they could no longer be
protected. I understood that the chicks seemed doomed. My
heart was heavy.
We returned the next morning for one last look before going home,
afraid of what we'd find. There were Mother, Uncle Goose and
two duckies. A mother losing her children one at a time and I
couldn't help her. I saved one life, but even that made no
difference. We knew that soon they would all be gone.
Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I do, it
won't be enough. I understand now, that the phrase "You can do
anything if you try hard enough." is a grand lie. Acceptance is
sometimes a necessary virtue. This is a sad lesson. True. But
its an important lesson a society which tends to avoid weakness,
failure, death, even finishing second place.
Now I have a grand challenging life with many successes. I have
many things to be proud of. I have great dreams that will
become realities. I expect to have a successful, joyful life.
I also acknowledge that it won't be perfect - I have learned
that sometimes 'sh^t happens."
Theresa Gabriel, Paths began to beckon
Theresa when she was 12, visiting the Bridger Wilderness in
Wyoming. Walking, dancing, and movement are a part of her,
nourished by John Denver's musical challenge for her to "fly."
She has walked up mountains and through forests in Wyoming,
Germany, Switzerland, and Austria. She's lived in Germany and
has traveled extensively in Europe, even leading a pilgrimage.
Her recent walks in the Grand Canyon and Alaska inspired her to
begin her dream business of "walking with women." Learn more
about Theresa Gabriel and her Life Discovery Tours at her web
site. Women Summit LLC
http://www.womensummit.com
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