Wood duck’s courtship rekindled on ashes of nesting disaster

By Keith Ross | The Daily Journal

Published Saturday, May 31, 2008

Welcome back to the bark side of life here in Ottertail where for the first time since we have lived here, our pond visitors have been brave enough to come close to the house and snack on bird seed. This spring, a pair of mallards has taken up residence in the pond and of course yours truly has named them as, well, meet the Fillmores.

This week, I just happen to have a “tale” that was phoned into me by a very charming lady from New York Mills named Elna Tumberg who wanted to tell me a story about ducks. She told me a story — which seemed sad in the beginning — of which she and her two sons were an intricate part.

Nearly a month ago around the first of May, Elna Tumberg decided it was time to clean out her fireplace and set to doing it with a light heart and a smile upon her wizened face. It was one of those fireplaces that have glass doors and a deep recess into the wall. It wasn't long into the project when she discovered that the flue was frozen shut and she couldn't open the draft of the fireplace. She called her son, Jon, and he came over to help his mother out like a good son should always do.

Jon didn't know his own strength, evidently, and broke off the knob that controls the flue. He quickly retreated to the garage in search of a wrench, but only returned empty handed.

Jon returned the next day with a wrench and finally opened the draft. Much to their amazement, two wood ducks, in a nest made of hair, down, and assorted feathers, landed on a log at the back of the rather large fireplace.

Elna called her other son, Bryan, and he arrived shortly thereafter, bearing a much needed flashlight.

The three of them stood in awed silence, trying to take in what just happened. Bryan directed his flashlight toward the back of the fireplace and determined that one of the ducks was still alive.

The drake was D.O.A. but the hen somehow survived the whole catastrophe, but she was traumatized to the extent that she hid in the very back of the fireplace.

Elna provided an old shirt and the hen was carefully and gently removed from her temporary lodging.

The drake was buried in the backyard with the appropriate respect and demeanor, leaving his mate for life was looking forlorn and looking extremely lost.

The hen was taken to the deck and miraculously, within minutes, she began to wiggle her tail feathers in delight, and departed the company of her benefactors. She headed for the pasture like a hen in a hurry.

She wasn't seen for days and then the late snowfall came and dumped 18 inches of unwanted snow on the entire area. The last remnant of snow was plowed out and left in a big pile at the end of the driveway.

While Elna was sitting out on her deck watching the deer, she saw something moving about in the melting pile of snow. It was the wood duck hen squawking up a storm looking for her lost mate. Elna approached the hysterical hen but she flew away as soon as Elna got close.

The next day the hen was in the water puddle again, squawking for her drake to come when all of a sudden, a shadow passed overhead and disappeared behind the house. Fear struck her harried heart as she was desperate not to lose the remaining duck.

She ran out further into the driveway looking to scare away the predator — she had seen numerous hawks soaring effortlessly high above her home and she was sure it was a hawk looking for an easy prey.

But it wasn't a hawk. It was another male wood duck circling the yard in answer to the hen's ardent cries. He answered back in a language only the two of them understood.

He landed in the puddle occupied by the hen and continued to squawk and rustle his feathers.

The two of them made the joyful noise of courtship and much to Elna's amazement, they flew away together.

Instinct carries such a weight upon the lives of these magnificent creatures that no matter what amount of logic they may possess, they are still driven by the need to survive. I have believed that when certain creatures mate for life, that's it.

Evidently, Elna witnessed something extraordinary. God's love finds a way of finding us, even if you are a grieving female wood duck. Thank you, Elna, for the opportunity to tell your story.

Send stories to me by e-mail at info@rosswoodkennels.com or write to me at Keith Alan Ross, Richville MN 56576 or do as Elna did and phone in the story t o 218-495-2195.

Keith Alan Ross writes from his home in New York Mills.