This is the kind of story that, more than politics, makes me cry and tremble with sadness:
Five ducklings for a new National Zoo exhibit have died after being shipped from California this week and arriving at a Prince George’s County post office, the zoo said yesterday.
Zoo spokeswoman Peper Long said the ducklings died of dehydration. She said the situation was a result of miscommunication by the Postal Service. “It was an extremely unfortunate accident, but it is an accident and it will happen,” she said.
Sixteen ducklings were hatched and mailed Monday and arrived at Dulles International Airport a day later, Long said. A zoo staff member who called the Oxon Hill post office Wednesday was told the package had not arrived. But the staffer, Bob King, the assistant curator for small mammals, discovered that evening that the post office had unsuccessfully attempted to deliver the ducklings at his home by mistake, Long said.
The ducklings, part of a “Kids’ Farm” exhibit opening in June, were picked up Thursday morning. The 11 surviving ducklings continue to recuperate while in a standard 30-day quarantine.
I hate that quote, “is is an accident and it will happen.” I can picture her shrugging her shoulders with a little grin.
I can also picture tiny baby ducklings, confused when they are sealed into a cardboard box, jostled about in the dark for days, dying of thirst.
This sort of thing makes me sick, so much more so than stories of the death of humans, who usually are not innocent or have some sort of culpability in their own demise.
