“What would you like to know?” I ask.
“Well, I would like to know why you have a crow on your shoulder. But do you want to show me around? I can ask some questions as we go. Will that be all right?”
“We can start right here,” I say. “We’re calling this the Bunny Bungalow.”
Jules and Sunita are in charge at this station. Their pop-up tent has no sides to it, just some shade over all the bunny cages and straw bales. Jules has the abandoned lionhead bunny on a bale of straw. Sunita has the tiny black bunny that someone left in a box outside Dr. Mac’s Place. A couple of preschoolers wiggle around in front of the bunnies.
“Jules, Sunita,” I introduce them, “This is Vivian Michael. She’s a reporter.”
“Hi,” they say at the same time and then look at each other giggling.
“What can you tell me about these rabbits?” Ms. Michael asks. “They seem friendly.”
Jules and Sunita look at each other. It seems like neither one knows who should talk first. I rescue them.
“Jules, maybe you can tell her about where all of these rabbits came from?” I can see Sunita relax a little. She smiles at Jules and pets the rabbit in front of her. While Jules tells about finding the rabbits, Sunita lets kids pet them. She and Jules have made bunny-care handouts. Sunita goes over one of the sheets with a mom and her two kids who drove an hour and a half to look at the bunnies for adoption.
“So what other questions do you have for me about bunny care?” Sunita asks the lady.
“I think you’ve answered all my questions,” she says. “I had rabbits my entire childhood. And now that my cat has died I think I’d like to have a rabbit again. My kids are so excited. I already bought a cage.” Her kids nod and jump around a little. Their mom rests a hand on each of their shoulders, and they settle down with big grins plastered across their faces.
“Oh, so you’ve come prepared,” Sunita says.
“I’ve been considering a bunny for the last year. When I saw the info about this open house and all the bunnies up for adoption, we just had to come.”
Sunita and the mom continue to talk, while Sunita shows her all of the available rabbits. I listen again to Jules’s conversation.
“I had no idea that people would just turn pet rabbits loose into the wild,” Ms. Michael says, in horror.
Jules points out the poster she made, and David’s, too. David’s has great information, but the rabbit he drew looks a little like a pig.
Ms. Michael jots down a few more notes and turns to me and says, “I’m ready for our next stop.”
I lead her to our Fox Family Station. Dad has built some temporary stockade fencing to shield the fox family from the visitors. Dad and Sage outfitted it with a hole—like a duck blind—so people can see the fox family but not get too near them or be seen by them. Sage is stationed there. He allows visitors to borrow his binoculars, and he explains how and why we care for animals like this fox family and how and when we release them back into the wild.
There is a line of about twenty people waiting to see through the binoculars. Sage was smart when he constructed a box for the smaller kids to stand on so they can see through the “duck blind,” too. Everyone over here at Sage’s station is also paying attention to the signs that say, PLEASE SPEAK QUIETLY, WE DON’T WANT TO FRIGHTEN THE FOXES.
Next, I take Ms. Michael to Mom in the critter barn. The family she has been talking with thanks her and leaves clutching Mom’s handout. It shows what it takes to run our center. It has information in case people want to donate, volunteer, or even adopt a bunny. I introduce my mom to Vivian Michael.
“Nice to meet you,” Mom says. “Brenna, I can show her the rest of the place so you can get ready.”
I head off to find Maggie. Our presentation is set for two o’clock, and it’s almost that time now.
I jog past Jayvee, crouching in the grass with a bunch of other kids. Jayvee has a special station set up to show off his origami dinosaurs, because what wildlife open house would be complete without the dinosaur display? Josh and a guy I recognize from the Outdoor Club are at a picnic table nearby helping kids make origami rabbits, ducks, and chicks. Jayvee helps them make dinosaurs. No one has abandoned any dinosaurs lately, but if they do, I know Jayvee will be on hand to tell them why they shouldn’t.
The animal shelter’s station is right near Jayvee’s. They also have a pop-up tent and straw bales. A few families sit on the bales listening to the volunteer. The animal shelter has brought pictures of dogs and cats needing good homes. They also brought application forms. Every hour they give a presentation on adopting from the shelter as well as volunteering there. I looked at their photos earlier and thought I should consider volunteering my services. They could really use someone who can take better pictures than they have now. I bet they’d stand a better chance of having some of the animals adopted if people could see them clearer.
But I remind myself that I’m already doing plenty of volunteering. I can’t do everything—especially if I want to do it right. And keep my friends. And that’s when another idea comes to me, the Ambler High School Photography Club. They could take on the animal shelter as a community service project. They could rotate volunteer photographers who go in and take photos of the animals in need of good homes. They’d certainly be better than the ones the shelter has now. But that club wasn’t very nice to me. And honestly, I’m still too embarrassed to bring it up with them. I’ll suggest this to Nick and let him talk to them instead.
Alongside my father’s workshop, the Outdoor Club has set up a food stand. They’re serving lemonade and cookies and, oddly enough, grilled asparagus. The asparagus is Zoe’s idea. She’s always trying to get everyone to eat healthier. Zoe stands behind the table with Nick and his girlfriend and Dr. Gabe. I recognize a couple of other boys from the Outdoor Club, too. One is arranging asparagus on a platter. Zoe seems to be assisting him in some way. I know it’s not just because of her love for green vegetables. Typical Zoe. I don’t think she can help herself.
Walking up to their table, I wave to Dr. Gabe, Nick, and his girlfriend.
“Hey, Brenna, great turnout!” Nick says. His girlfriend looks up from her phone.
“Sure is. Thanks for helping out,” I say.
“I’m on call today, but I figured I’d hang around here until I’m needed elsewhere. It’s nice to see how well things are going,” Dr. Gabe says. He and Nick continue their conversation.
“Hey, Zoe,” I call, “any chance you know where Maggie is?”
“Haven’t seen her since we set up the kiddie pool. Is she still over there?” Zoe asks.
She turns back to the boy she is “helping” without waiting for an answer from me. I just shake my head and continue on.
And then I see Maggie with a few adults heading my way. I recognize Mr. Kurt, manager of the feed store.
“Brenna, this is Mr. Morris from the tractor supply,” Maggie says, introducing the other man.
I shake his hand. He looks at me strangely. Then I notice his eyes drift up. I had forgotten that I was still “wearing” Poe.
“Probably not used to a crow hanging around,” I suggest.
“Not hardly,” he replies. “Nice bird.” He looks wary.
“Thank you,” I say.
Mr. Kurt from the feed store says, “Now, I know I met you not long ago. With that rascally boy.”
“Oh, David, he’s actually really nice,” I begin. “He just—”
“Don’t take offense. I like rascally boys. Raised four of them myself. He’s in all the time with his dad. I like that kid.”
“Thanks so much to both of you for coming. Maggie and I are about to begin our presentation,” I say.
Maggie says, “Yeah, thanks.” She points to my mom and the reporter heading our way.
“Good,” I say to Maggie. “I wouldn’t have wanted to
start without them.”
Maggie looks at the men and says, “Would you like to have a seat?”
She points to the rows of nearby straw bales. Some families are already settled in. Dr. Mac stands beside the easels that Maggie and I set up earlier. The kiddie pool is off to the left, and we are about ready to begin.
I smile at Maggie. She smiles and gives me a thumbs-up.
Dr. Mac begins, “Ladies and gentlemen, children, and animal friends, I’d like to introduce you to two of my Vet Volunteers. This is Brenna Lake and Maggie MacKenzie. They have a special presentation.”
I hear a child in the front row stage whisper, “Is she a pirate?”
I motion to Dr. Mac to take Poe. I sometimes forget that not everyone expects to see a crow sitting on someone’s shoulder. I don’t want him to be a distraction from our presentation. I glance over at Maggie. She looks a little nervous.
I lean in and whisper, “You’ve got this. They’re here because they want to know.”
Maggie nods and begins. “One of the sadder parts of spring is the abandonment of Easter pets.”
I flip the paper on the easel so everyone can see the first poster. It’s the one Josh did. It shows an empty Easter basket and a bunny hopping away.
Maggie continues, “Every year, people buy rabbits, chicks, and ducklings as gifts for children. Most people do not realize the care that these pets need. Every year, people drop off these new pets the week after Easter to the animal shelter, the vet clinic, or to the dangers of the wild.”
I flip the chart to show Maggie’s poster on the statistics of how long these pets are expected to live in the wild before becoming prey to other animals, dying of starvation and hunger, or being killed in traffic.
The audience is hushed. The two store managers look concerned.
It’s time for me to speak. Maggie flips the chart to reveal my poster. I give the same talk that I did for my science class. I tell people about the cruel practice of dyeing animals.
Now it’s time for our duckling demonstration.
David and Josh lead the ducklings across the grass and through the crowd to us. The ducklings look like grown-up ducks now. At just five weeks, they are fully feathered, white Pekin ducks. Just like Dr. Gabe predicted. Maggie flips to the next poster of my photos of our first attempts at introducing the ducklings safely to water.
“Awww, so cute,” I hear people say. And they are.
“Ducklings in the wild or born on a farm would have a mother to keep them safe and teach them what they need to know,” I explain. “But ducklings that are sold in feed stores or tractor-supply stores or sold through the mail do not have mothers to help them.”
I can see the two managers look nervous. I don’t want to make them feel bad. But they need to know what happens.
I continue, “So if a farmer gets the ducklings, he or she knows what to do. But when people buy them for their children, the ducklings are in danger of drowning.”
Some people gasp. I hear someone whisper, “That can’t be.” But Maggie and I continue. Maggie picks up a duck and points as I speak.
“At the base of their head, ducks have an oil gland. This gland excretes oil after the ducks have been submerged. If a duck was with its mother, she would make sure all her ducklings got out of the water after a dunking. Then the duckling would preen. They use their heads and wings to distribute the oils to all their feathers. Ducks are not waterproof until they have fully feathered out and have distributed the oils. A baby duck or duckling has fluff, not feathers. So they can become waterlogged and drown.”
Again, I hear gasps. And someone says to another, “I had no idea.”
“This is why so many baby ducks do not survive when they are given as gifts. Maggie and I did a lot of research. One of the things we found out is that many stores have a minimum number of six chicks and ducklings that a customer must buy, unless they already have a flock. This way, only farmers and families who want a backyard flock will buy the animals. So people aren’t able to buy one or two as pets.”
It’s Maggie’s turn again. This time she doesn’t seem a bit nervous.
She says, “No animal should be thought of as a toy. These are living creatures. People should let the Easter bunny bring candy and stuffed animals and let the living creatures stand a chance at survival.”
A couple little kids up front are very excited to hear the Easter bunny mentioned. They bounce up and down while sitting on their straw bales. The adults in the audience seem to agree with Maggie and me. I see many heads nodding. I hear bits of conversations.
But the store managers talk quietly to each other. I wonder what they’re saying. Will they listen to us, even though we’re just kids?
Chapter Twelve
It is time for the big event, time to introduce the ducklings to the deeper water of the kiddie pool. Jules and Sunita have closed their station for a bit to see this. Zoe and a couple of the Outdoor Club kids have wandered over, too. I’d guess we have a crowd of over sixty people sitting on straw bales and standing in a big semicircle behind them.
I hope this goes okay. Maggie and I have been coached by my parents. They said it will be fine. Fun, actually. We’ve done our research. I just hope none of the ducks makes a run for it. I know they won’t drown. That’s the whole point here. I catch a glimpse of Sage in the back; he shoots me a thumbs-up. I look over at Maggie. She doesn’t seem nervous in the slightest, just excited.
I identify the leader duck. It’s the smallest one, a girl.
I tell the audience, “We can tell that this duck is a girl because she quacks. Only girl ducks quack. Boys whine. If you listen closely, you’ll hear this one here whine today. Another way that we can tell he’s a boy is because he has this extra tail feather. See this?”
Maggie points for me because she’s closer to him.
“This tail feather that curls back toward his head shows that he’s a boy.”
A man in the crowd yells out, “If any of you can remember the 1950s, that’s how the men’s hairstyle ‘ducktail’ got its name.”
Some of the older folks laugh a little and talk to each other about that. I’ll have to look up a picture of this hairstyle. It sounds strange.
It’s time. Maggie and I have piled stones beside the kiddie pool so the ducks can climb in and out. We’ve placed a big flat stone in the pool just to be sure that they have somewhere to rest if they have a hard time figuring out how to get out of the pool.
We have the paint tray beside the stones and the kiddie pool. We used it this week to get the ducklings familiar with the water. The three of them can’t exactly swim in it. They are too big, and it is too shallow. But at least they are excited about the paint tray. At first they were scared of it.
It’s time to splash in it so the ducks notice it.
Maggie splashes. She pats her hands on the water. The ducks notice but do not approach it. She splashes again. Nothing. The ducks lie back down on the grass. This won’t be much of a show if they just hang around the grass for an hour.
I give the leader duck a little pat on her behind to send her to the paint tray. She stands and quacks but doesn’t move. I pat her again, and she takes a few steps. The other ducks see her move, get up, and follow.
Finally, she’s close to the paint tray. Maggie stops splashing and takes her hand away. The leader duck takes a couple more steps and then . . . gets in the paint tray. A few people clap and laugh. Then the other ducks follow her in, and everybody laughs. The three ducks are so big that while they are all in the paint tray, they are all also hanging out of it. They have outgrown their little body of water.
Now I show them the deeper water behind them. I lean over and splash like Maggie did in the paint tray. The ducks turn and look. But they do not move closer to it. Maggie shrugs. I try to pat the leader duck toward this water now. She stands. But instead of walking up th
e rocks and into the big pool, she turns and runs the other way!
The other ducks follow her. Maggie and I follow the ducks. We can hear people laughing behind us. The ducks slow and stop a few yards away. Maggie and I slow down as well, then start to creep up on them.
“What do you suppose we should do?” Maggie asks.
“We need to get Lead Duck in that pool. The others won’t get in until she does,” I say.
“So we walk them back and then what?” Maggie asks.
“I’ll get in with her,” I suggest. “I’m wearing shorts, so it’s no big deal.”
“You think that will work?”
“If she goes in, they’ll go in. And we need to make sure she goes in.”
Now that we have a new plan, we walk the ducks back to the pool. The littlest duck, our leader, walks out in front of the other two, quacking away. When we get close to the pool, the ducks hop back into the paint tray.
I kick off my sandals, step in the pool, lean over, and snatch up Leader Duck. I hold her gently in the pool. Gentle or not, she is unhappy. She quacks loudly. The other two ducks hop out of the paint tray and run around and around the kiddie pool. Everyone is laughing. I feel my face go red. Maggie is red, too. This was probably not such a good idea to do the swimming lesson so publicly.
But then, one of the ducks decides that he needs to be close to the leader. He turns and waddles up the rocks and right into the pool! The third duck paces back and forth in front of the pool as if trying to decide what to do. Finally, she gets into the pool, too.
It’s time to dunk the ducklings. It seems a little mean, but it’s the only way. I’m still holding the leader duck, and she’s still quacking. I check to see if Maggie is ready. She nods at me. I loosen my hold on my duck’s body and quickly push her head into the water. Maggie does it with the boy duck, and before I can dunk the third she dunks herself.
Immediately, the leader duck jumps out of the pool. She doesn’t even need to use the rock stairs. The other two ducks also race out of the pool, but they both take the stairs. I step out of the pool, too. The ducks begin preening. They instinctively move their heads back and forth and raise and lower their wings, using their bills to move the invisible oil in and among their feathers. The audience members are all on their feet, watching the ducks do what comes naturally. And then the ducks do what ducks do best, they get right back into the pool and swim.