Escape Plan

Escape Plan

Noel Laflin

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Folks sneak in, by dead of night, to drop off pet ducks at our neighborhood pond every so often.  They get along fine with the wild mallards, coots and geese. I suppose it beats the alternative of being cooped up in a cage, or being pestered by small children and dogs.

With the closing of the old summer camp in which I used to work, some forty years back, the ranger and his wife decided that Horatio – the pet rooster - might have a better chance of surviving an otherwise brutally cold mountain winter if he were in a milder climate – specifically, Knott’s Berry Farm in Buena Park.

So, off they drove, with Horatio safely tucked away in the camper shell of their truck, intending to sneak him into the parking lot closest to Independence Hall, where all of the other roosters and chickens clucked and strutted about.  They were successful in their covert operation of carrying him over to his feathered brethren, coyly setting him down amongst the other foul, while they themselves slipped on over to Mrs. Knott’s Kitchen for a fine chicken dinner.

Several hours later, after a mighty tasty supper and a tour of the shops, the couple casually strolled back to the camper, only to find Horatio sitting on the back bumper of their truck patiently awaiting their arrival.   How they finally ditched the old boy has been lost to memory.  But somehow they made it back to camp minus the bird. 

I still picture Horatio, to this day, patiently waiting for their return. 

Consequently, if I ever see one of the recently arrived domesticated ducks sitting on the back of someone’s bumper parked on the street above our neighborhood pond, I hope those folks have an escape plan of their own.