Sunday, I was at a birthday party, which would soon be over. As my mom stepped out of the car, I could tell something was wrong by the anxiousness in her voice as she ushered me to the car. As we drove away, she began, “Dogs got into the ducks pen today.” I stared at her. Questions and mental pictures zoomed through my brain; were they OK? Which dogs? How did they get in? “Oh my goodness! Are they OK?” was all I could say. “Well, the black ducks were bloody, but we didn’t see any broken skin. Pearl and Mallory were fine. Dolly was bleeding for a long time… and we think that Donald has a broken neck,” she finished grimly. I asked her solemnly, “Do you think he’s going to die?” “....yes.” I thought I was going to cry. “I can’t believe it.” As we rode home, we discussed what had happened. Apparently, the dogs had jumped on a hay bale and hopped right over the short wire fence. My dad heard dogs barking (which never happens) and ran outside to see dogs in the pen. I am so proud of him, because he ran out there in his socks and scared them off. They had Donald on the ground, with the others huddled in the corner. He brought them inside and washed them off. When I got home, I wanted to cry again. The five ducks were all piled on top of my dad. Dolly had a bandage wrapped around her chest, and then I saw Donald; he was sitting between my dad and my sister. An Ace bandage was wrapped around his neck, which would flop everywhere if not for my sister holding his neck. I sat with them for a long time, then it was time for bed. The ducks (excluding Donald) were taken out to the water trough. We fixed Donald a bed in a cardboard box inside a cage. Before bed, we gave him a drink of water, which he sloshed around as he tossed back his head. He slept in the bathroom, and I checked up on him every now and then….not much sleep for me. In the morning, we checked on him….and he was 200% better. He could eat, drink, move his neck, and stand. I was so happy! We put him back with the rest of the ducks. Yesterday, his bandage was off (he probably had a little help), and you could hardly tell he’d been hurt…except for the bald, bloody spot on his back. My little buff Cochin died, but I’m okay about it. Now, I’m most worried about Dolly…she lost a lot of blood. Well, I’ll keep you posted on their condition. The chicks have been flying around like little dare-devils!