The unlikely, lifelong bond shared between a dog and a duck | Opinion

I knew something was amiss when Douglas came running back from the river, yelling, “Mom, mom somebody threw her in the water before she had oil on her feathers and she was drowning!”

Cupped in his hands, Douglas held a bedraggled, soggy and lost-looking blob of fluff. And then the blob peeped. It was a tiny duckling. New from her shell, she seemed to look up at Douglas and wonder, “Is this my mommy?”

My boys were 8 and 10. It was spring, and we were camping at Casa de Fruita, near Hollister.

We took a box of cereal out of a cupboard in our camper, emptied it and fashioned a snug bed for this new member of the family. The campground manager supplied a cord and bulb to keep her warm. She tucked her head under one tiny wing and promptly went to sleep.

She was home.

We fed her bread soaked in warm milk with an occasional insect mashed in for protein. And, to our amazement, she flourished. Douglas and Jason took her out of the camper for exercise several times a day. And, knowing no other family, she imprinted on the two of them, followed wherever they led, and seemed to be delighted with her new life. She even seemed to respond to her new name, “Duck-Duck.”

When it was time to head home, we wondered, “What would Russet, our golden retriever, think of Duck-Duck? And what would Duck-Duck think of this very hairy, always curious, mountain of attitude?”

After all, Russet came from a long line of beautiful animals trained to prey on birds. And Duck-Duck was a bird — whether she realized it or not.

We need not have worried. After all, Russet had honed her mothering skills on an orphaned kitten named Phillip. When Phillip turned up at our house needing mothering, Russet quickly adopted him, even letting him “nurse” on her neglected, never-used nipples. Russet and Phillip were inseparable.

Now, faced with an orphan duck, Russet never wavered.

I carpeted the family room with newspapers, carefully took Duck-Duck out of her box and introduced Russet to the new baby. Russet immediately lay down and nuzzled Duck-Duck into her groin for warmth and protection. And a new relationship of trust and kinship was born.

How do we know what our “animal kids” are thinking? The only way I can describe this pair is through what I observed in their interactions with each other.

Russet was ultimately attentive to Duck-Duck. Somehow, she knew that this small creature was totally defenseless and vulnerable. She intuited that care, caution and vigilance were needed if this peeping, flapping newcomer were going to thrive.

Is this “love?”

In “The Road Less Traveled,” M. Scott Peck, M.D. says, “When we love someone our love becomes demonstrable or real only through our exertion — through the fact that for that someone. . . we take an extra step or walk an extra mile. Love is not effortless. To the contrary, love is effortful.”

Yes, I think what Russet and Duck-Duck demonstrated toward each other was the most genuine kind of love: a love that goes beyond appearance, species, language, or the physical ability to repay. And Duck-Duck, the recipient of this boundless canine affection, did reciprocate. She adored Russet, cuddled up to her snug and close at every opportunity, followed her endlessly, and affectionately nuzzled and rubbed noses with her.

Sounds like love to me.

Eventually, the time came for Duck-Duck to live outdoors. Luckily, we lived on an acre in Prunedale with a fenced backyard complete with a working sprinkler system — a good place for a now full-grown duck. But Duck-Duck seemed lonely for her own kind.

Russet still watched over her, but, like most of us, she now needed friends in addition to a mother. My good friend, June, lived a few miles away in Aromas, and she was happy to supply what Duck-Duck needed most: Duke, Cooter, Daisy and Daisy’s daughter arrived, ran into the sprinklers and a flock was born.

But the relationship between Russet and Duck-Duck remained. Whenever Russet came out the back door, Duck-Duck quacked a greeting and ran over to welcome her into what was now her very own domain.

“Love is as love does,” Peck writes. “Love is an act of will — namely both an intention and an action. . . We do not have to love. We choose to love.”

Can we learn from a dog and a duck? Russet and Duck-Duck chose to love. Can we?

Bunny Stevens lives in Modesto, her hometown, and has served on The Modesto Bee Community Advisory Board. She is the opening courtesy clerk at the Safeway supermarket on McHenry Avenue and an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. Reach her at BunnyinModesto@gmail.com