The Mystery of the Wild Ducks on our Terrace

When I returned from Delhi this morning, there was a family of wild ducks on my terrace. I was informed that ten ducklings plus their mother had drifted on to our terrace a couple of days back and since then have been camping there. Nobody knows from whence they came or how they reached our terrace. It was clear that the ducklings are too small to fly, so how did they reach our terrace, two storeys up! The only plausible explanation is that the mother might have carried them on her back. I counted the little ones: only five. What happened to the other five? Did they fly away, or, God forbid did some flerken type felines gobble them up?

As I stood there watching the family, my mind a little disconcerted, the mother looked at me in a peculiar way as if asking, “Is this the way a gentleman behaves when a helpless lady and her kids are at his door? Why don’t you invite us in?”

I looked away, my cheeks a wee bit red.

Taking a deep avian breath she informed me that humans are responsible for most of the troubles of the water birds; she told me how expanding and intensifying agriculture and forestry and constructions have destroyed their habitats. She added that the mallards in India are suffering a massive and mysterious decline in numbers.

I thought of telling her that so are humans. I also wanted to tell her about the latest deadly coronavirus variant C.I.2 which could be knocking at our doors in a couple of week’s time and how humans are leading a scary life; I wanted to tell her about the dangers of the deadly avian flu. But I refrained myself. As such one could see that she was already on edge with all her emotional and such other pressures. I could imagine the distress of a single mother trying to bring up five kids.

It was at this time the Devil, in all its repulsiveness came there.

Without wasting any time he hopped on to my shoulder before whispering in my left ear, “I know you are a weak and feeble-minded person, so are unable to see the brighter side of things, but just look at her: she must be at least 5 pounds; enough for a couple of days, and wild ducks taste excellent.” I could see that he was trying to tempt me by appealing to the taste and opportunity the duck represented.

I looked at her; she was desperately trying to remain calm. It was apparent that she had heard the malicious words of the prince of darkness and had understood the implications of them.

The prince of darkness was busy pulling my earlobes.

I was tempted, but only for a miniscule of a second. Cocking my head lightly I admonished him, just like Lord Jesus had told him off 2000 years ago, “Away with you, Satan; get behind me, ye wily creature.” And to my surprise, he not only got behind me but also left me.

Turning to her I said in a placating tone, “You and the kids can camp on my terrace for as long as you wish; your boarding, lodging, entertainment and drinks will be taken care of; if you want you can watch the cricket match from the window, but I wouldn’t advise it. England is on fire and Virat is not in a good mood; he might set some bad examples for the kids. Yeah, stick around till the kids are able to fly.” Turning away, I added, “And look out for those flerkens.”