Irma: The Hurricane Hero Duck

We’ve lived in our little corner of Plant City, Florida for years, sharing the ponds out front and behind our house with a bustling community of wildlife. Among our most charming neighbors are the Muscovy ducks, waddling regally around the yard, dabbling in the water, and peering curiously at us from time to time.

But none of them quite captured our hearts like Irma.

A mother’s quiet mission

About a month ago, we noticed Irma had chosen a spot right at the base of the old Live Oak tree in our front yard to build her nest. She laid thirteen eggs there, carefully arranging them in downy tufts and bits of leaves, returning faithfully every day to keep them warm.

Irma was a diligent mother. Throughout the day, she’d rise, waddle off for a sip of water or to nibble on some grass, then hurry back, settling over her eggs with a determined little wiggle. We watched this routine from our windows, smiling at her devotion.

The storm comes

This past Sunday morning started like any other. When I got up, Irma was already on her nest, her soft brown feathers fluffed up against the early breeze. But by afternoon, the breeze had become a howling wind. The weather reports had grown urgent—Hurricane Irma (quite the coincidence) was bearing down on us with winds expected up to 107 mph.

By evening, sheets of rain lashed against the house. The trees bent dangerously in the gusts. Through it all, Irma stayed put, a small stoic figure in the storm. We could see her clearly from our bathroom window. There she was, head tucked in, enduring the deluge.

Through the eye

When the eye of the hurricane finally passed over us late that night, there was an eerie calm. We ventured outside with flashlights, stepping over fallen branches and sodden debris. I held my breath as we approached the Live Oak.

There she was. Irma. Still there, still on her nest. Her feathers were plastered down by the rain, a few stray Spanish moss tendrils draped over her back, but she was alive and unshaken.

As we went back inside, I whispered, “Hang in there, girl.”

The winds picked up again soon after. We lay awake listening to the roar and thump of debris against the house, finally drifting into uneasy sleep around 2:00 AM.

The aftermath — and a small triumph

Monday morning, we awoke to a yard littered with broken branches. Power lines drooped under fallen limbs, fences lay crumpled. But there, under the battered Live Oak, sat Irma. Unharmed. Her nest was a mess of twigs and moss, but all thirteen eggs were miraculously intact.

Irma hadn’t budged for nearly 24 hours. Concerned, we brought her a little tray of water and some food, which she accepted gratefully before fluffing herself up once more to shelter her precious cargo. The winds were still gusty, so we left her to it, marveling at her resilience.

Life goes on

By Tuesday, the winds had finally eased. Irma rose from her nest for the first time, stretched her wings, and made her way to the pond. She slipped into the water with a little splash, paddling around as if to say, “Ahh, that’s better,” before returning to her vigil.

Every day since, she’s continued her steadfast watch. We’re counting the days now, excited for when those thirteen tiny ducklings finally hatch and start parading around our yard — even if it means a whole new layer of duck poop on our driveway.

A salute to Irma

So here’s to Irma — our super duck. The little mother who hunkered down through a Category 2-3 hurricane, weathered wind and rain that toppled mighty trees, and never once abandoned her nest.

In a world full of uncertainty, where storms can come crashing in without warning, sometimes the bravest heroes stand only a foot tall, covered in feathers, with a heart big enough to stare down a hurricane and say, “Not today. Not on my watch.”

Can’t wait to see you waddle by soon with your fluffy crew, Irma. You’ve earned it. 🦆💚