On April 24th of this year, we admitted a Mallard hen and her ten ducklings after they were rescued from a storm drain by Harrisonburg Animal Control. There was concern that the mother and ducklings may have been injured after falling in the drain, so the responding officer felt it best to have the group evaluated at our clinic.
Fortunately, a thorough physical exam, radiographs, and blood work revealed that both the hen and her ducklings were clinically healthy and in great body condition. To prevent unnecessary stress on her and her brood, our veterinary team immediately cleared them for release and I jumped at the opportunity to return them home.
This proved to be a more daunting task than originally expected. The group was pulled from a storm drain in the middle of the city, a far trek from the nearest green space and surrounded by human activity. A satellite map led me to a few possible release locations, but none seemed suitable for the family.
Our first stop was a pond just two miles from her rescue location, but the pond was in a gated golf course that we could not access.
On the other side of town, our second stop looked perfect on satellite, but was surrounded by an industrial park and the pond was located on a fenced private property.
We struggled with our other options. One pond was completely surrounded by concrete and the nearest green space was across an interstate. Another was over ten miles from her rescue location. And the other was filled with litter and the sound of the neighboring highway made me nauseous.
After more than an hour of traveling across the city, listening to the gentle peeps of hatchling Mallards, we followed Blacks Run to a green space downstream from her rescue location. It was by no means the pristine, wild landscape I’d hoped for. We spotted a few empty bottles, a plastic bag flapped high in a nearby tree, and the sound of construction echoed around us. But the stream was clean, the park was relatively quiet with strict leash laws, the wide banks and foliage provided plenty of coverage from predators, and this run likely connected the hen to whatever spot she was hoping to lead her brood originally. Every bone in my body wanted to cart these babies far into the county and find a secluded stream deep in the woods. But, that wasn’t what this hen needed. This mother had likely grown up here, thriving despite every danger that this human-touched landscape threw at her. She knew this territory better than I know the back of my own hand and leaving her stranded in a foreign place with new, unknown threats would be detrimental to her family’s survival.
We carried the group as deep into the green space as we could go and gently set the crate down on the bank. I lifted the hen out first. She hissed and spread her wings in an effort to protect her young. After placing her in the stream, she cautiously waited a few feet away as I placed each of the ducklings into the water. They took off in an instant, expertly traversing the rocky bed to get to her. She collected her raft of ducklings, guiding them away from me as quickly as she could.
Completely frozen, we watched as the mother led the raft around the bank before heading upstream. She and all but one of her ducklings easily climbed over the rocky rapids, but one was struggling to keep up with the brood. The baby called out and mom quickly responded by leading her raft back down the rapid and attempting to coax the duckling upstream once again. This cycle continued as the baby struggled in the flowing current. Doubt crept into my mind watching this exchange, as I feared the hen may give up on this little one. Just as I was about to head into the run and help the duckling, several loud alarm calls from the hen rang out before the baby propelled itself over the rocks and joined the waiting flock.
Watching the mother lead her children farther upstream was one of the most beautiful moments I’ve ever witnessed. I had spent the last hour worrying over the future of this family in a place that seemed filled with dangers, neglecting to realize the selfless, determined hen that led this brood. One who was willing to risk her own fate to stand by her young trapped in a storm drain. One who defended and protected her family throughout likely one of the most terrifying days of her life.
It must be frightening to raise your children in a world that wasn’t designed for them, where hazards seem to lurk around every river bend and where wild landscapes are forever changing. But this hen has already proved she has the skills and knowledge to survive and her commitment to give her young the same fighting chance is unmistakable.
This story is dedicated to all the mothers out there –feathered or not. Your sacrifice, bravery, and determination never go unnoticed. We see you. We celebrate you.
Happy Mother’s Day.
— Lilly Farmer, Veterinary Technician Intern