The Fish and Wildlife guy called me back yesterday morning. He told me to take the baby ducks to the nearest water source and pitch 'em in! Well... he didn't actually say "pitch" but "release" them--which translates to "pitch" in my book since I think that is a TOTALLY uncaring/unconcerned/thoughtless way to handle the situation. Probably most people would say not to interfere with Mother Nature of survival of the fittest or what ever, but I'm too sympathetic (or maybe the naysayers would say "pathetic" instead?). The closest water source is the canal that runs beside the exercise path in front of our subdivsion (which, by the way, is right beside a four-lane, 50 MPH road so besides starving to death or drowning, they could have gotten run over).
I didn't know how to get down the the water because there's a steep bank down to it. I e-mailed Brian to see if he would help me when he got home last night.
Meanwhile, I was going to a movie with Judy yesterday afternoon and since I'm still driving the clunker around, I asked for her cell phone number (because if I broke down, I was going to call her to come pick me up). Anyway, she had a friend who once found a seagull with a broken wing (I'll bet Fish and Wildlife would have told her to wring it's little neck and pitch it in the trash!). The friend found a bird rescue group to take care of it. So Judy called her friend and got numbers for me to call!
I got in touch with a woman named Laurel, and she told me to drop the ducks off at her office and she would take care of them. YAY!!! Whew! I didn't want them to die, but I didn't want to take care of them either!
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