THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, August 3, 1995 TAG: 9508030486
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Charlise Lyles
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
Shoppers at Greenbrier Mall in Chesapeake practically united in a community project this week. On my way to lunch, I became part of it.
A mother mallard had taken up residence, nested and hatched an undetermined number of ducklings, right at the entrance of the Sears Merchandise Pick-Up station.
There she roosted, barely in the shade at a steaming sidewalk's edge. About eight yellow-headed babies coo-quacked under her feathery guard.
Close by was a trail of bread crumbs, Cheese Nips and a sawed-off plastic jug, empty of water.
``They've come back here every year for as long as anyone can remember,'' said Sears employee Jodie Rutter, referring to the bird's ``homing'' instincts. ``She had more babies.''
Sadly, by Monday, her brood had dwindled to three.
The babies looked sun-dazed and in definite danger, tottering on tiny webbed feet. All pecked at a pile of crumbled crackers.
``Aw,'' cooed Rosalie Ramos, a nursing assistant at Chesapeake General buying a vacuum cleaner. ``You seldom see this since it's all built up, and there's nothing really to keep them safe.''
Then up rose mother from her concrete nest, babies in tow. Under the carport and toward the general mall entrance they waddled.
Julie Thompson, 14, turned on her heels to block the brood from marching right through the automatic doors.
``Maybe we ought to take them into the restaurant,'' said Henri Sanders of Elizabeth City on her way to Piccadilly Cafeteria. ``They probably want to get cool.''
By now, nine or 10 of us had gathered. I was beginning to feel close to everyone. What to do, perfect strangers asked each other.
Then Libby Austin and Robbie Harrell dashed out of the restaurant with a styrofoam tray of water. ``I wish they'd come drink it so we can shop in peace,'' said Austin.
But mother mallard veered toward the busy parking lot.
``There she goes, taking those babies out there,'' scolded Susan Pelletier, shooing flaring feathers back on the curb. Her three boys, one in a stroller, and their grandmother looked on, patient but excited.
A mall security van lurched up, halting traffic as the ducks promenaded across the parking lot. They settled on a tuft of grass under a tree too frail to promise shade.
Out strolled Mayor William E. Ward, toting a shopping bag. Could the ducks be protesting the city's rapid growth, I inquired.
``Now, now, we do love our ducks here in the city of Chesapeake,'' the mayor proclaimed. ``Maybe I ought to call animal control.''
I called Back Bay Wildlife Refuge and animal control.
``Don't feed them bread, crackers and starchy foods,'' said wildlife biologist John Gallegos. ``They need protein nutrients like insects.''
Animal Control dispatched an officer who herded the ducks to a nearby pond. As of Wednesday, mother and children, now only two, had resumed residence at the mall nest.
All week, shoppers have practically taken shifts protecting them, said mall marketing manager Kim Wanger.
Truth be told, I'm not too optimistic about our rescue efforts.
But it felt nice and human to bond with strangers for just a moment. ILLUSTRATION: STEVE EARLEY
Staff
This mother mallard hatched ducklings outside the mall.
by CNB