I was obviously meant to be the patron saint of all small and ridiculous animals. Or possibly, a duck whisperer.
Yesterday Waffa, one of the girls from the house down the hill, called up to say that her sister, Hannah, wanted to come up and see my mom, "with one of her creatures." I should mention that my mom was about one semester away from her DVM before she quit school to take care of grandma. I should also mention that it is known, far and wide, that Hannah has a menagerie of beasts that she doesn't quite know how to care for. Which is why my parents have two extra dogs. But that's another story. Anyhow, I told Waffa that mom was already gone, but she could send the girl up and I would look at whatever it is. Often, it's a cat, and we all know that I know my way around a cat.
A few minutes later Hannah was standing at the door with a duckling who looked pretty close to choking himself to death. Foam mixed with duckling pellet was coming out of his nose, and he made a raw, gasping sound, which seemed like it was a good sign - better than no sound, right? Hannah was clutching it and weeping. Obviously, the first thing to do was break her death grip on the thing, so I had her put it on the counter and googled "how to save a choking duckling." All I can say is, thank god for the internet. Apparently, this happens all the time, and people litter the internet with how tos. Step 1: Observe. All ducks choke now and again. Ducklings sometimes die from it, but you shouldn't try to help them unless it looks dire. So, with baited breath, we observed. And low and behold, a gasp and a tiny squeek! He was working it loose. So I didn't even bother with steps 2 and 3. Instead, I calmed Hannah and found an eHow on how to raise ducklings that should help her in the future. If she can read. Which my grandmother insists she can't.
I know, I know, I'm your hero, but really, it was nothing.
And, I got pics of the whole thing, but am still waiting on that card reader.