THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, June 24, 1996 TAG: 9606240042
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY JOAN C. STANUS, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: NORFOLK LENGTH: 103 lines
When Charlotte Reed hatched an idea last spring for a classroom science project, she never dreamed she would become a surrogate mother to five orphaned ducklings.
She also never envisioned becoming a rescue center for an abandoned parakeet and a crow.
Her friends, colleagues and students at Oceanair Elementary School have even started calling her ``the bird lady.''
``I've always liked animals,'' said Reed, 29. ``But I was shocked when all this happened. I thought, `Why me?' ''
It all started last spring when Reed decided to try hatching a few chicken eggs in the school's incubator as an experiment for her second-grade class. Although other teachers at Oceanair had tackled the same project, none had wound up with live chicks.
Undaunted, Reed decided to give it a go anyway. She consulted a few books, secured five fertilized eggs from a local 4-H Club and fired up the incubator.
The class watched and waited, hoping the chicks would hatch.
But before they could, the five chick eggs got some company. In early June, a parent brought in 10 newly laid duck eggs. The mother duck had been killed and thrown into a Dumpster.
``She had just laid the eggs that day, and he knew I had an incubator,'' Reed recalled. ``I honestly didn't think they'd hatch.''
Still, the teacher and her students religiously monitored the eggs, constantly turning them much the way the mother duck would have.
Life began erupting two days after the duck eggs arrived. Within a few hours, three of the five chicken eggs hatched.
The children were enthralled.
``It's so weird to see something come out, fully developed,'' Reed said. ``We were all very excited.''
After a week or so, the class placed the chicks in the care of a Chesapeake farmer.
``The day he came for them, the kids were all upset and crying,'' Reed recalled. ``I felt bad, too. I didn't realize we'd become so attached.''
But they still had the duck eggs. Although Reed continued to rotate them and monitor the incubator's humidity and temperature levels, she had little hope that they would hatch. After a month and still no ducks, she was ready to give up.
``That Friday I thought, nothing's going to happen,'' she recalled. ``But I decided to wait until Monday to throw them away.''
Before she had a chance, the ducks began emerging.
``We came in on Monday and saw that one had his little bill sticking out of the shell,'' she said. ``And I could feel the other ones moving inside the eggs.''
Within a day, five of the 10 eggs had hatched.
``I couldn't believe it,'' Reed said. ``And the kids were all so excited. One boy said, `Miss Reed. This is incredible.' ''
The ducklings remained in Reed's classroom for that first week, but before long they had become too loud and messy. So she took them home to her small Breezy Point apartment.
Each day, before leaving for school, Reed would pile up a ``duck buffet,'' composed of torn leaves of iceberg lettuce and spinach, for her charges to munch on while she was away. By the time she returned, they were screaming for more.
As they grew, each developed its own personality. Howard, the second-largest of the brood, is the loudest and most aggressive diver. Shelley, named because of the egg shells that stayed on his back for a week, is the smallest. The other three are Huey, Louie and Dewey.
With no mother duck around, the ducklings quickly bonded with Reed. They chirp loudly when she's out of their sight but quiet down whenever she returns. For a while, she had to lie on the sofa within sight of their cage to get them to go to sleep. One night, after returning to her bedroom, she awoke to see Howard standing in the doorway, staring, as if to say, ``I found you.''
When she takes them outside, they follow her in a line wherever she goes.
``They think I'm their mom,'' Reed said with a laugh. ``If I make a noise and say, `Come here, chickie, chickie,' they come right to me.''
The ducklings already have outgrown the tiny tub Reed once filled with water for them to swim in. Now she lets them dive and paddle in her bathtub.
She worries about Shelley.
``After two weeks, he still can't swim. He just sinks,'' Reed said. ``When the others are swimming in the bathtub, I'll hold him so he can see them . . . but he shakes and shivers. His downy feathers are so thin, too.''
Her plan is to give them to a wildlife rehabilitator who lives on the water.
``She doesn't just release them,'' Reed explained. ``She teaches them how to get their food . . . and swim.''
But the day when Howard, Shelley, Huey, Dewey and Louie leave the ``nest'' will be a sad for Reed.
``They're so cute,'' she said. ``I can't believe how attached I've grown to them.''
By all indications, she probably won't be alone for long. A neighbor who grew tired of her parakeet gave it to Reed to care for. Also, a former student who heard about the ducklings brought a baby crow to her for help.
``She found it behind a trash can,'' Reed said. ``Another bird was attacking it. It must have fallen out of its nest too early. I thought he'd be scared of me, but he was so lovable.''
After a few days of tender loving care, as usual, Reed sent the crow on its way. ILLUSTRATION: [Color Photo]
SURROGATE MOM
RICHARD L. DUNSTON
The Virginian-Pilot
Charlotte Reed's second-grade class watched in delight as these baby
ducks hatched in an incubator. Now, Howard, Shelley, Huey, Dewey and
Louie think the Oceanair Elementary teacher's their mom. by CNB