Watching humans struggling with their humanity.
Driving a car while exercising humanity is difficult. 14th Street isn't a thoroughfare, nor does it lead directly to anything remotely necessary in daily living, unless you live on 14th Street. It's difficult to drive safely within speed limits here. I see many a driver fighting their vehicle trying to convince it to slow down. Their faces show the depth of the struggle to convince their car or truck it doesn't need to be so aggressive. It's just 14th Street! Their vehicle bucks and revs in disagreement.
The same disagreement was on the display behind the house by two separate lawn crew people. They both operated stand-on lawn mowers that were capable of street speed limits or better. They both choose better as their speed. One on the east side blowing through 6 inch deep standing water and grass, in the pouring rain. One on the west side blowing through 4 inch deep standing water and grass under the same pouring rain. Jet skiers.
In the middle was Simone and her 7 three day old hatchlings.
Meanwhile, on 14th Street, Penelope and her 5 older ducklings bathed in the gutter in the rain. Along with our clan of flock.
I watched as a man fighting vehemently with his truck to slow down turn onto 14th Street and barrel on between my view of our ducks and his disagreeable truck roostering silt, water, and puddles behind. The driver fought on, wresting his damnable beast of a truck to slow down. His failure continued out of sight.
Two unconscious baby ducks with panicking siblings and mom were left behind.
I ran out to the street, gathered the injured, and led all to our established line of tall monkey grasses. The two ducklings didn't have injuries or blood I could see, but they were loopy in head. I laid them gently on the soft monkey grass and stepped away. Mom and siblings gathered around. She nursed her kids. I put a bowl of water near them. No more of this street shenanigans. My heart can't take watching humans failing humanity.
That's when I remembered Simone in the back. I ran to look out the back windows. She was pinned between mowers moving ever closer to each other, the center, and her family. It's one thing to move quickly as an adult duck. You just fly. It is another when you are a female with freshly hatched young. She'll fight first. She fought a male off the other day.
The scene was too far away to run or call out to, I went outside in a feeble attempt to gain the closer driver's attention. Which I did not.
Simone was able to negotiate clearance and safety, barely. I thought she lost multiple ducklings at first glance. The mowers never slowed down. They did not bother to give way, these humanity void humans had no interest in doing a kindness or a care. I had to sit down and not count little heads. My heart couldn't take it.
Eventually the mowers ceded into the distance and cut engines. The rain left the sun to fight for it's turn. I looked out to the front of the house and found Simone, under the tree behind the water bowl. Seven little ducklings chased falling rain drops from the branches above.
Closer and on the opposite side of the water bowl there was Penelope, counting her own heads. Five older ducklings chasing bugs rising from the monkey grass. So busy were they, I couldn't tell you who the two were I laid down.
Asking a human where their humanity went is akin to asking a human where their tail went. Homo Sapiens; wise man, a wish spoken in Latin and a translated lie.