Save the ducks

G and I saved a duck the other day.

He and his friend had spotted it the the day before while they went for a walk on their lunchbreak. It had one of those plastic rings that are attached to bottle tops to keep them sealed (you know what I mean?) hooked in his beak and around his neck so he was basically collared. The poor thing obviously could not eat. G and friend tried to catch it with G's t-shirt but were unsuccessful.

The next day we went for a walk and saw the same duck, looking much weaker now, after a day of no food. G ripped off his shirt again (a very neccesary duck-rescuing procedure), and we managed to corner the duck against the wall of a block of flats. Then we wrapped the duck in the shirt and I tried to unhook the ring off the duck. Not happening. I was scared of breaking the duckie's neck, it was well hooked. I was wishing desperately for a pair of scissors, when suddenly a voice floated down from above us:

"Oh you've caught it, I was just phoning the SPCA, I've been so worried."

A little old lady was looking down at us from her flat. We asked her for some scissors. She passed them down to us, and recognised G. "You were here yesterday, I recognise the torso" (hey, lady, he is mine. My torso). 

We freed the duckie and he ran like, like... a terrified duckie to the canal. 

The old lady, who had clearly been watching too many episodes of McGyver, sent us down some wool, to which we attached her scissors, and she pulled them up again. Then G covered up his torso and we were away.

So if there was ever a time to realise how easily litter can damage poor innocent animals, this is it. Who would have thought those plastic rings could do so much damage?

So kids, remember, don't litter. And mari-joo-ana is bad, mkay?