Nurture has a place in nature though.  Only truly warped people enjoy seeing an animal suffer. On my way home the other day, traffic was backed up on my normal route.  I turned instead down a longer detour, but preferable; even though I'd probably burn just as much gas on the longer route as I would idling at a standstill for how long it looked like it'd take to get through the gridlock, I'd far rather be moving than twiddling my thumbs. 

There was a lovely little pond a ways down the road.  As I passed it, I saw a blob in the bike lane.  A feathered, black, white, and brown blob.  I thought it was dead until I passed it, and I saw it bob its head in seeming confusion.  I drove on for about another half mile until, darnit, my little shoulder deity chimed in.  "You realize if you don't stop, no one else probably will." Sigh.  I turned around.

I pulled off the road onto an unfinished paved entrance by the pond and flicked the hazards on. Of course the one day I'm going to be a good samaritan in the wilderness of deliberately-undeveloped urban wilderness is the one day I'm dressed to the nines in business attire.  Gray slacks, forest green (fitting, considering the circumstances) turtleneck, black leather jacket and ankle boots.

I clomped back to the duck, and stopped on the sidewalk.  My first attempt would be to wheedle it up onto the sidewalk where I was, so it wouldn't be in the road any more.  I hunkered down beside it.  Then I....hesitated.  How do you talk to a duck?  Just for the record, any repititions of "hey little buddy" don't work.

Plan B.  Step into the road, take jacket off.  Corral duck with it, and try to guide it to sidewalk.  Ignore passing motorists who are very amused with the scene.  

Jacket duck corral fails.

Plan C.  Not sure if ducks can get rabies.  Would rather not get bit by a duck whether or not they can get rabies.  Wrap duck in jacket, pick it up, and place on sidewalk.  Wait for it to waddle back to watery safety just a few yards away.  Duck is deposited within sight of pond and....does nothing.

Try to corral duck again with jacket, and get it moving in direction of pond.  

Jacket duck corral fails.  Again.

Plan D.  Pick duck up in jacket again, more securely this time, because half-hearted escape attempts when Plan C was enacted almost caused it to get dropped.  All that shows of the duck is its head, sticking out of my jacket.  I work my way towards the pond. Ground is squishy.  My ankle boots are having a love affair with it...they sink up to maximum height allowed and sigh every time I yank them loose.

I gently deposited the duck by the pond. I don't know whether it was hit by a car while it was by the road, but I couldn't ascertain any injuries.  Then again, I wasn't even sure it was a duck.  It had webbed feet, and it didn't have a long skinny neck, so I'm guessing it was a duck.

The last I saw the duck, he/she/it was sitting contentedly by the pond.  I made my way back up to the sidewalk, and did a fair imitation of Lord of the Dance trying to shake all the mud off my ankle boots.  Yet more good, clean, wholesome fun for passing motorists.