On any typical day of the workweek, my morning routine is as follows: Wake up at 6:15 A.M., hit both of my alarms, go back to bed. Wake up again, but this time in a panic for fear that I might’ve overslept. I glance at my alarm clock, numbers glowing an ominous red, and hope that I only dozed off about ten minutes or so–7:21 A.M.
To allow sufficient time for me to get dressed, eat breakfast and unhurriedly walk out the door, I need to be out of the house by 7:00 A.M. So, on a usual morning, I’m rushing out the door.
But not today. Today I actually got to leave at 7:00 A.M.
Continuing with my morning routine, I need to drive my car to my uncle’s, where I park it and walk to the train station. I take Route 83 to get there, which, if you’re not entirely aware, is a very busy highway and especially so during morning and evening rush hours.
Well, today was no particular exception, and, when I was out on the more busier portion of the highway, I notice far off into the distance a brown speck on the median. I get a little closer and see a duck. “Nothing unusual,” I thought to myself. “There’s usually tons of roadkill on this highway.” I get a little closer and, eyes simultaneously fixated on the road and the duck, notice the fowl to be very much alive, and notice little more specks around it. I drive even closer and notice, to my extreme shock, that the duck is a female duck waiting to cross the road–with her little ducklings.
A large gasp was all I could muster from my vocal chords; I don’t think I’ve been more concerned for a creature of the woods in quite some time. Even though it was just a family of ducks–animals come and go every day–I really do hope and pray that they got through safely.
Heck, I even thought of turning around, stopping on the median and having them somehow jump into my car, and I’d drive them off to a pond or something.
But all I can do is pray for those little anatidae.