How my golden retriever raised a family of ducks in my backyard | Opinion

In a recent column, I told the story of an orphan duckling, Duck-Duck, who was raised by our golden retriever, Russet. Duck-Duck flourished in our family room under the watchful care and protection of this great big dog who chose to love and nurture this quacking, flapping bundle rather than to prey and devour.

With Russet’s help, Duck-Duck grew into a beautiful adult. But it eventually became apparent that it was time for her to live outdoors.

When we opened the back door, gently carried her outdoors and put her down in the freshly mown grass, Duck-Duck seemed mesmerized by the multitude of sights and sounds. Russet was with her every step of the way.

As Duck-Duck made the huge backyard her own, Russet soon tired of her job as nursemaid, and, yawning, collapsed in the shade of our persimmon tree. Duck-Duck jumped into the wading pool we had provided, gobbled up snails — of which there were many — and tried to interest Russet in a game of chase. But when she also eventually tired, Duck-Duck sought comfort and solace in Russet’s warm tummy.

Duck-Duck loved her domain, but something was missing. My son, Jason, came in one afternoon and said, “Duck-Duck is lonely. I think she needs friends.” Luckily, my buddy, June, had ducks to spare on her property in Aromas. She packed up a few and presented Duck-Duck with a flock of her very own. Duck-Duck was ecstatic. My boys named the new members after the characters on their favorite TV program, “The Dukes of Hazzard,” and Cooter, Duke, Daisy and Daisy’s Daughter gathered around Duck-Duck like long-lost kin.

They loved their new home. Russet took on the role of protector, and she spent much of her time monitoring the quacking and exuberant frolicking of her charges.

As spring approached, we noticed that something new was going on in our duck habitat. Together, the three females were busily remodeling a soft, cozy, protected spot under the overhang of the stone barbecue pit on our patio. As they flapped, bossed, squawked and rearranged, it was apparent they were intent on creating something out of the leaves, twigs and grass clippings they were gathering. When all three of them contentedly stood back to survey their creation, a miracle presented itself: a triplex — one nest big enough for the three of them to use.

By turns, they lay and then incubated a bountiful clutch of large, leathery eggs which were warmed, murmured over, sheltered and gently rotated by turns for most of a month.

Russet was the one who alerted us when something very special was beginning in the warm incubated space under the surprised ladies. Russet sat just beyond the nest, watched steadfastly and eagerly whined out a welcome as the bitty babies emerged, eyes open, feathers fluffing, ready for action.

Our backyard was full of ducks! We set out an additional, bigger wading pool and a larger bag of Duck Chow. Russet, for her part, patiently made herself available for the babies to climb over and around.

“Puff the Magic Dragon,” says that “Dragons live forever, but not so little boys.” And I found it to be true. As my sons grew and became more engaged in the wider world, the ducks were not nearly as fascinating to them. Besides which, we needed to replace fences. What to do?

June agreed to make room for our ducks in her enclosure. We borrowed her pick-up, filled it with her cages and then loaded the ducks in and drove the five miles to her “farm” in Aromas. When we unloaded the ducks into her duck pen, goodbyes were said with a tear or two. The boys and I got in our car and headed home.

“Mom, do you think they’ll miss us?” asked Jason. I answered that they might because they had certainly been happy with us.

When we pulled into the driveway and walked through the gate into the backyard, the ducks greeted us excitedly. Yep — every one of them. They beat us home. They had never flown, but they flew that day. “Home” meant something to them: green grass, wading pools, plenty to eat, room for their great big nest. . . and Russet. She was there in the midst of them.

We tried this process three times, and they beat us home each time.

The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals of Monterey County has a beautiful location on Highway 68 between Salinas and Monterey — some of the most spectacular and pricey real estate in the world. When I conferred with them about our ducks, they invited me to visit.

I pulled through the gates into a scenic wonderland of ponds, native shrubs and California oaks. I was told that I was welcome to bring our ducks to them; they would be isolated for two weeks to make sure they were healthy, and the isolation would help them forget home.

When we left them there, it was with glad hearts full of hope.

We were invited to be there when the ducks were released, and I swear they looked at us with something like recognition. I think Duck-Duck looked back over her shoulder as she ran with the others into a beautiful pond, quacking all the way.

They had been attached to their home with us in Prunedale, but they knew heaven when they saw it. I think we will, too.

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