Normally, I eat lunch at my desk, but since Monday was the first day of summer vacation I wanted to stop home midday and make sure the kids hadn't burned the house to the ground yet. We ate peanut butter sandwiches together, and afterwards, I herded them off to the YMCA. Upon my return to the office, I got out of my truck and found my friend Sheryl and her assistant Brenda peering into a sewer grate in the parking lot. Intrigued, I strolled over and asked if they dropped keys or some other valuable in there. Brenda replied, "No, some ducklings are stuck down there."
As I got closer, their frantic peeping became louder and I bent over to see how many there were. It was at least six, but hard to tell. Somehow, I hadn't noticed the Mother Mallard pacing frantically with two of her charges following. I got down on my knees and assessed the situation. The sewer grate had been sealed with asphalt around three sides of the perimeter, so even if someone was strong enough to lift it, the thing wouldn't budge. The ducklings were only about 4 feet down though, so it wasn't a lost cause. Sheryl made a call to the City of Apple Valley and was greeted with indifference and a vague promise to send a crew over if "one is in the area." By the time she hung up with the bureaucrats, the remaining two ducklings had joined their siblings in the sewer, effortlessly falling between the wide grates like coins into a slot machine. The temperature was a very humid 90 degrees, but it was much hotter on the asphalt parking lot.
I went into the office to see what kind of cleaning supplies we had, but there wasn't anything I could use or even jerry rig to rescue the little canards. By now, a small crowd had gathered and everyone in the office was complaining that the city didn't consider this a real emergency. One of the more jaded agents I work with even called 911 to make a more urgent plea. Same answer, this isn't a high priority.
I found myself wishing for the bamboo minnow nets my kids use at our cabin, they would have been the perfect length for scooping the little buggers out. I asked if anyone had a pool skimmer, and the receptionist at our front desk reminded me that Sheryl had a pool. Unfortunately, she had several houses to show within the hour and wasn't able to get back to her house and grab the net, then return to the office and make all her appointments.
So, I went down the street to Petco, and snagged two large aquarium skimmers. The handles were about 18 inches long and the net basket was ten inches wide and another six deep. I was sure that if I stretched my arm it's full length, I could get them out. I returned to the sewer, where the mother duck was ready to implode and appeared to be panting, though I'm not sure if ducks have that skill. At this point, I was grateful it wasn't a Canada goose, because they're mean as hell when threatened and not small either. Brenda pulled up at the same time with a camera and her two little boys. They laid their car mat on the sewer grate on the opposite curb, so that once rescued, the ducklings wouldn't fall back down and start the process anew.
I took one net, and lay down on the hot pavement. Fortunately, I had flagrantly defied the office dress code that morning by wearing a pair of khakis that just skimmed my ankles-they'd wash up fine. The silk twinset-I'd be able to live with that loss if it came right down to it-reuniting a mother with her children meant more to me than an article of clothing.
The ducklings were all huddled in a corner in pyramid formation, I think in an attempt to climb out using the others as leverage. The net was the perfect length and depth, and I scooped out two on my first try. Victory! The mama was overjoyed, and quickly corralled her two recovered children. The eight remaining ducklings, however, were terrified of THE ARM and THE NET. They huddled together in the culvert pipe, out of my reach, peeping incessantly. A large crowd had gathered now, wondering why this woman in dress clothes was laying completely prone on the pavement. Cars drove slowly by, staring in curiosity. One driver volunteered a little grabbing tool, 
but when he demonstrated how it worked, I shook my head in horror. The little pinchers would have certainly harmed these ducklings, and damnit, I was on a mission now. Failure was NOT an option.
I asked everyone to quiet down a little, perhaps the sound of their mother's quacking would persuade the ducklings to return to the one corner where I could reach them. They did. The next scoop was a two duckling payload. Woo hoo! Another agent suggested he work his golf club in there to help shepherd them into the net. I refused, I wanted this operation to be kept stress free-these ducklings weren’t more than a week or two old and one wrong move with a five iron could spell disaster.
The remaining ducklings came out one at a time over the next fifteen minutes, and I had to resist rubbing my lips all over their fluffy deliciousness. I didn't want them smelling like my sweat and Sarah Jessica Parker's Lovely. (Didn't you always hear that as a kid? A mother animal will reject its babies if they smell like a human.) The crowd cheered as the last of TEN ducklings joined its family underneath a car, probably letting out a collective sigh of relief. I left right away, there was no time to savor my victory. Steve was having two incredible boulder birdbaths (mildly ironic) installed at the house and was calling nonstop during the rescue wondering where I wanted them. I could not get him to understand the life or death crisis I was dealing with.
Doing whatever it takes...
Two down....eight to go....
I told you the golf club wouldn't work...
I love the little guy in the foreground, he reminds me of this...
