Or if you prefer: The Duck Piper. It doesn't matter. What does matter is those ducks loved Michael. It all started when the momma duck started bringing her 24, yes 24!, ducklings to our house every afternoon to feed on the bird seed the birds had knocked out of the feeders through out the day.
She would come and let the babies eat and then they would play and sit in the water from the sprinkler for a while, and Momma would sit along the periphery with her keen eyes watching everything that was going on. After we set up the trampoline she would sit in the shade with the water dripping down from the canvas above.
It didn't take long for Michael to decide that if the ducks were going to come they were not just going to be eating leftovers. It took even less time for him to discover their favorite was the dried corn. So, he would buy large bags of corn and fill a coffee cup and distribute it to the ducklings. Always making sure that everyone was able to eat their fill. Michael was always careful to be sure that the dominate ducklings were not able to keep the others from eating.
Soon, the ducks were coming twice a day. At the same times. EVERY day. Funny thing is, I never knew ducks could tell time. But let me tell you... they can. We know this because before much time had passed the ducks decided they were not content to wait in the back yard, and they would actually swarm him when he came home. They would meet him at his truck each afternoon and talk to him as he stepped down from the seat. I don't even know where they come from, but Michael's truck would pull up...and there they were--like magic.
They say animals can detect a kind person, a person with a heart for animals. If I didn't believe before, I do now. The momma duck trusted Michael. How do we know? She showed it. After a few days of them coming, before Michael started feeding them, she would allow us to sit outside and watch her babies just feet away from where they were feeding. If one of us stood up, though, she would always place herself between us and the babies, quietly, calmly, as if to say "I don't want to startle them, but don't get too close." A few days after that, Michael was aloud to be smack dab in the middle of them all, and Momma would watch from her comfortable perch in the cool, damp grass, but if Brendan or I stood up, she was would be between us and her little ones. She did trust us, but not like she trusted Michael. Now, if Brendan and I were at our house, and other people were coming to close from the park that was across from our yard, Brendan and I were apparently the least threatening because she would put her focus on them. She had a trust heirarchy, and it went like this: Michael, me and Brendan, and waaaay down the list, everyone else.
Smart duck.
