I Crushed My Poor Duckling One Morning And It Still Makes Me Feel Like A Bad Person.When I was about 9 years old I had this habit of going to my lake and taking ducklings. I would just grab one and run away. I thought I would give them a better home if I took it home. I would dedicate all my free time to the ducklings. I would then put them back in a crowd of ducklings and just go home after that. But one day I wanted to have a little sleepover with the cutest little duckling I ever caught. I remember him having the purplest little beak, it was just the cutest thing.
I would sleep at the top part of a bunk bed and i brought it up with me (of course nobody in my family would notice) and i kissed it goodnight and maybe even talked to the cute little duckling.
I just fell asleep for the whole night.
When I woke up, ready to take the duckling back to the lake, I couldn't find him, I was scared maybe it fell from the bed, to my horror, it was much worse.
Under my bedsheets, there it was, the little duckling with his eyes closed. I had crushed him. :(
I couldnt stop crying. I felt like such a bad person. I didn't want him to die. I did the only thing I thought was right and I put him in a nice shoebox and buried him by the lake.
Its been 10 years I think since that happened and the image and realization of what had happened remains fresh in my head. Animal death gets me pretty sad.
(looked like this little guy)