RED MILL — A lovely little mallard recently nested in the hedges outside my work. The hedges are on the sidewalk along the edge of a large retail parking lot in Red Mill. It’s a bustling place, with an established set of small and large shops and another shopping center filling out not so far away. Shoppers and vehicles pass by all day.
It seemed an unlikely spot for a duck and not very strategic. Like more locals than one might think, the little duck never knew this place when almost everything around it was green.
The mallard persisted, however, firmly situating her home in the mulch beneath the bushes. She built her nest undeterred for over a week. We watched as she went back and forth from the nest, fortifying it for the long days ahead. Finally, she nestled herself in the center and commenced the next phase of her life. Perhaps a dozen eggs filled the rounded mound a short time later.
Those of us working in the two shops that bordered the mallard’s nest became invested. We called local wildlife organizations for advice. But there wasn’t anything to do until the ducklings hatched. They told us to keep an eye out until the eggs cracked.
In the mornings, before we turned on our “open” signs, we’d often stand by our store doors, quietly talking about what we were witnessing, determining watch schedules and discussing what would be done when the time came to help our mallard. It was a gratifying, purposeful time, apart from the day’s business. I looked forward to those mornings of camaraderie.
I was not working when the ducklings were born. The store’s manager, a dear friend, texted me because she knew their arrival was important to me. Picture after picture popped on my phone as the day unfolded, and our lovely mallard set her brood in motion. I watched from afar on real-time video of the evolution.
Wildlife experts, store managers, and employees patiently followed the family across the crowded parking lots to the busy thoroughfare our mallard intended to cross to the pond on the other side. She knew where she was going. All the humans could do was usher her and her family along.
Things could have gone awry when the group arrived at one of the busiest intersections in the southern part of the city, Upton Drive and Nimmo Parkway. There, directing traffic while the babies slowly waddled two-by-two across the roads behind their mama, were firefighters from Station 21 on nearby Nimmo Parkway.
The scene stays with me – the shop employees, wildlife organization members, first responders all working together to help the ducks, who seemed oblivious to their efforts. I think about it now and recall the phrase that came to mind when I first watched the video:
People are good.
Helping ducks may be a common occurrence in an area of the city teeming with wildlife. It may seem a small thing. But it’s not. Something wonderful happens when people come together for a purpose, big or small. The procession of ducks went on their way that day, but the sense of community remains, which makes saving the ducks worthwhile every time.
The author is a former Virginia Beach Planning Commissioner and college professor. Reach her at leejogger@gmail.com.
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