About three weeks ago, during the morning dogwalk along the shore out at Alameda Point, I saw them for the first time. Two adult mallards and a pair of the tiniest little ducklings paddling along amidst a loose assortment of gulls in the cove formed by the long arm of the rock wall.
As I approached the park bench near the boat launch, turnaround point of our walk, I noticed the male mallard wander off, leaving the two little ones scurrying along behind mama duck. Gulls are omnivores, and I wouldn’t put it past them. Years ago I watched a nature special that had gulls raiding a puffin colony’s eggs and hatchlings, and it boiled my blood fairly well. I’ve never seen gulls the same since. Every so often a gull cruised menacingly close to mama, causing her to veer off with the little ones hurrying behind.
“What’s the matter with you?” I wanted to holler at Papa duck. “Get back over here!” But he kept paddling off toward an egret and some shorebirds. “Dereliction of paternal duty!”
I kept an eye on them in the midst of all those much taller gulls, as we continued back toward the USS Hornet, but there wasn’t much I could do. I considered throwing a rock or two at the gulls, but what good is that? I’m going to take the day off work and stand out there all day, rocks in hand? I wondered if I’d ever see them again.
And yet, over the course of the next week, I did see them. Well out of the cove, near the shoreline riprap next to the soccer field. It’s darker in the overcast mornings now, but there they were in the gray morning gloom, two dark little ducklings paddling along behind Mama, tiny little guys.
I met my dogwalking friend Ray that weekend, August 27th and 28th, and they were still there. He has chickens in his backyard for their eggs, and on Sunday we sprinkled some of his chickenfeed on the boulders closest to the water, hoping that might help Mama and her little ones grow. They swam out away from the shore as I worked my way down the riprap, and then we walked off, hoping they would come in and feed.
The next Monday all the chickenfeed was gone, and so was the little family.
All that week, the start of September, I didn’t see them. I know there are raccoons out there; in the darkness I once realized Edie had chased them into the water (two pairs of glittering eyes watching us in the inky water just off shore). Along about Friday I did see a lone female farther out in the water, calling plaintively, and I wondered if it was her. One morning I stepped up to the edge of the riprap again, looking up and down the rocky shoreline, and out popped a female mallard. I felt bad, and even spoke aloud. “I’m sorry you lost your little ones.” And at the sound of my voice out scurried the two little guys from their hiding place in the riprap!
She quickly led them out into the bay and I led Edie, my black lab, away from the shore, but I was happy to see they had made it that far – the little ones were clearly growing.
I don’t see them every day now, but I see them occasionally. About a week ago I figured the ducklings were a third the size of Mama, and this morning they seemed to be about half her size. They steamed out from the shoreline before I got to their usual hiding area, going in opposite directions, me heading toward the boat launch, them heading out toward the rotten piers before the USS Hornet and the container ships. There must be food for them out there.
I’ll try to remember to bring my camera and see if I can get a picture—bearing in mind that bringing the camera probably means I won’t see them.
It’s awfully late in the year to have little ones, but as we have mallards here year round, I suppose they don’t have to migrate anywhere. And I don’t suppose they’ll be going to visit their Dad, the deadbeat. Mama ought to sue for duckling support. Is this where the phrase ducking your responsibility comes from?
You’re experience with the gulls? I feel that way about ducks. Ducklings are adorable, but when I found out that male will commit infanticide and murder a female’s ducklings if they’re not his, and then rape her (can we call it rape? It happened in my pool once, three males on one female, and I wouldn’t know what else to call it) to get her pregnant with his progeny. Yeah, I still like ducks, kinda, but nature is indeed red in tooth an claw, as they say.
I’m glad the ducklings are hanging in there. I, too, would feel better if their father were still around to defend them from other mallards, as well as other beasties out there.
We had gerbils when I was a kid, and the two parents had a litter of little ones. A day or two after they gave birth I went to check the cage and found: only one left. I was mystified until it was explained to me–sometimes the parents eat their own young. A pretty sobering lesson for a kid.
I’ve heard of dolphins committing rape, too, as well as various primates. I think of it as a reminder of what sheltered lives we lead, how unnatural our safety is, when you think about it.
Hey there – just stopping by to wish you happy new year! May your mallards grow big and strong and may all your wishes come true in 2012.