Laundry finished, apartment scrubbed, bed remade, it was time for my walk. It was a relatively short walk but interesting all the same. First, as I came across the cathedral opposite Sutter’s Fort I noticed that St. Francis of Assisi standing protectively over his monolithic church has bees buzzing around his head and appearing to be waiting for air traffic control to clear them for landing inside the old saint’s head. I wondered at the significance of St. Francis having bees in his bonnet and honey on his insides.
A short block later I noticed a young lady and an elderly man standing above a drain in the street. On the street were a bicycle laid on its side and a cardboard box, plus a small steel cage. The young lady looked a bit distraught so I spit on my hankie rubbed a bit of shine into my armor and walked dashingly across the street.
Apparently – as related by the older man – each year the ducks having babies retreat from the pond at Sutter’s Fort because there is a protected hawk there who preys on the babies. So each year the mother ducks wander along the street in search of safe harbor and some of their ducklings invariably fall into the grates of the street drains. I peered into the drain and saw in the bottom a tiny, adorable-yet-cranky, multi-colored duckling scurrying to and fro and leaping up the sides of the drain. It was an admirable effort but to no avail, the poor duck was stuck.
So, the knight that I am come forth and I bravely did what they apparently were unable or unwilling to do which was to reach around through the opening into the pit. It took a bit of patience to wait until the duckling came within reach because he hissed (silent at his tender age) and my fingers appearing in the dusty semi-darkness. Finally he came to the side I could reach and I nimbly scooped him up and out of its pit of despair.
I handed it to the young lady who thanked me and I nobly bowed and pledged my undying fealty (no, I didn’t). She then boxed the ducky and went to try to reunite it with its mother who had by then taken the brood underneath a nearby house. At that point in the adventure I ran clean out of chivalry and wished her and the old man the best of luck.
I wonder if PETA realizes what a noble soul lives in Midtown. If they are informed, I certainly haven’t been contacted. I also wonder at the protection of the hawk in opposition to protecting the ducks. I have never seen hawk-a-l’orange in any menu anywhere.