The Great Chatham Duckling Rescue (or: one more thing that makes Chatham a great place to live)

                Last Wednesday morning, if you saw three people dashing through yards on Kinderhook Street, they weren’t casing houses for nefarious deeds, they were doing a very good deed.  It all started on Main Street about 10 a.m., when Chatham DPW worker Phil Genovese saw a distraught mother duck whose two babies had fallen into a storm drain.  Phil jumped to the rescue, into the drain, and got them out, but then the family was stranded in a world of concrete and cars, instead of their usual serene creek side home.

                Phil set to trying herd the little family down Park Row and Kinderhook Street to the creek.  Ever heard the phrase ‘like trying to herd cats’?   Trust us, trying to herd ducks is harder!  As his efforts seemed doomed, Barbara Peduzzi was parking on Main Street and, seeing that something involving animals was happening, crossed the street to see what was going on.  “I’m trying to get them back to the creek”, Phil explained, adding his story about their plight in the storm drain.  The two tried to corner the mom and babies, and did get them to Park Row when Mama Duck took a right past the church and into some back yards. 

                The people were getting too close, and she panicked and flew over the fence to behind Chatham Brewing, leaving her babies, but quickly returning to lead them into yet another yard.  About that time Lynne Bell was walking down Kinderhook Street and joined the rescue effort.  The mother duck could not deal with that many people, and flew off again, leaving her babies in a yard where they quickly ducked under a porch. 

                Scared without their mother, they came back out and after some quick footwork through flower beds (no plants were damaged in this ordeal) Phil captured both babies. 

                Now, to get Mama Duck reunited with them!  Lynne and Barbara held the tiny little fluff balls and urged them to “Peep!  Call your mom!  C’mon, Peep!”  It worked, and the little ones made as much noise as they could.  After all, they were being held by giants making very strange noises!  Mom soon heard them, and was flying overhead calling out to them in desperation.

                The people made their way through more back yards, behind the Methodist Church and over to Center Street, where Phil stopped a truck while waiting to see if the mother duck would come across the road.  She took to the air again.  Another DPW worker joined the group, helping keep track of where the frantic mother duck was.  By now everyone was on or near Mill Street, and close to the creek.  Mama Duck was in the brush but tracking her babies.  Phil carried them down to the steep bank to the edge of the creek, for a happy reunion.

And everyone went back to work.

Mother's Day 2013

Some years ago there was a saying, I think coined as a tag line to a joke, that went “Oh, No!  I’m becoming my mother!”  All I can say is: I should be so lucky.  My mother was an exceptional woman.  She was smart, she was savvy and she was wise.  She was blessed with infinite patience.  She never stopped teaching herself new things, from needlepoint and furniture refinishing to caning chair seats to selling antiques to bookkeeping for our gas station, and, of course, the myriad things about farming.  She went from a probably upper-middle class upbringing and college at Cornell to a farm wife, doing everything from milking the cows to helping birth calves to driving the truck piled high with bales of hay with all of us kids piled on top of the load.  She showed her love in more ways than we knew, making clothes, leading our 4-H clubs, being there and giving words we needed.  She missed my father every day between his passing and hers.   She was ready for it when it was her time to go and she did that as she did everything else, with calm dignity.  To become even a small part of what my mother was would be an honor that I hope I someday reach.  Love you and miss you, Mommy.