Recycling Ducks and Coat Trees

By Robin Hoselton

Every morning I go for a two-mile walk.  Of course, I don’t go when it’s raining.  I didn’t go when my knee swelled and ached from a bee sting.  I didn’t go when I had to await an 8 a.m. electrician call.  Okay, ALMOST every morning I go for a two-mile walk.  In addition, to keeping myself fit and healthy, I get my jollies whenever I stumble upon unexpected surprises.

My walks have yielded  booty like pennies, a hula hoop, a pretty Easter basket, and a new dish drainer set still in its cellophane wrapping.  I wonder why people discard serviceable items.  Are they too snobbish to pick up dropped pennies?  I figure I’m richer by pocketing that bit of copper.  Hula hoops, once a passing fad, still provide cheaper exercise than a treadmill.  Easter has come and gone, but does that spendthrift plan to buy a new basket each year?  I removed the handle so my cat now has a comfy bed to snooze in.  As for the dish drainer set, I can’t imagine why someone junked it.  Nevertheless, it will accessorize the kitchen when I remodel the counter tops.

One day I discovered a mallard duck next to a busy highway. The crumpled body of its mate lay a few yards further.  Apparently, both had been hit by a car but the male survived.  When I approached, he tried to skitter away, pitifully dragging a broken wing.  I couldn't leave him to be preyed upon by dogs or evil kids with rocks.  I picked him up and gasped in surprise at how light he felt.  He let me support his glistening green neck on my arm and cradle his limp body for the mile-long trek home.  Only the pulse of his heartbeat against my arm assured me that he hadn’t died.  Several drivers slowed down to gawk and the bizarre thought crossed my mind that I wasn’t wearing lipstick.
 
At home, I settled the duck into a laundry basket in the back porch while I made phone calls to determine “What do I do now?”  When I looked out the window 15 minutes later, he had perked up, turning his head this way and that, his bright eyes expressing a lively interest in his surroundings.  Forty-five minutes later, having persuaded my significant other to quit grumbling about 'the price of gas for this silly bird,' we arrived at a wildlife clinic whose staff promised to fix my broken beauty, then take him to a rehabilitation sanctuary to mend before release.

Thursday is always a rescue-walking adventure because it’s garbage pickup day. For instance, somebody threw out a coat tree just because one of its six wooden hooks broke. I lugged it six blocks to get it home, feeling like a parody of Christ carrying a cross.  After unscrewing a hook from the opposite side to make the coat tree look as though it always had four hooks, I stained it.  It now has a new life, standing near my back door, holding jackets and gardening hats.
 
The possibility of  being seen by another early riser while I’m scavenging people’s trash doesn’t faze me.  I can always say I’m doing my part to “Go Green” by recycling.  But to keep from looking like a bag lady, maybe I’ll dab on lipstick first!

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