Photo Courtesy of Peter DiNatale
Last May, I became the owner of six baby ducklings. Like many others during the quarantine, I was searching for an escape from the emotional burden of the Covid-19 pandemic.
Around the start of that spring, my first instinct was to start a garden. But, as I roamed the aisles of Tractor Supply Co. searching for potting soil, I crossed paths with something much more fascinating — a cage filled with dozens of tiny ducklings. I knelt down beside their enclosure and listened to them chirp. As I watched them waddle around the soft hay bed, I couldn’t resist buying a few. So, without the permission of anyone in my family, that’s what I did.
When I arrived home, I released all six ducklings into my backyard and watched as they settled into the grass. From my pocket, I pulled out the pamphlet that the cashier had handed to me: “The Ultimate Guide to Raising Your Feathered Friends.” Over the next few days, I began to observe them more closely and noticed that this description suited their personality perfectly. From cuddling together when they slept to eating at the same time, the ducks couldn’t live without each other. Yet, the more I admired the ducks as they frolicked around the yard, the more distant and isolated I felt from the Choate community, which the pandemic had stripped away from me.
Before Covid-19 struck, I never hesitated to call Choate my home. While I had the liberty of living at my house as a day student, I spent the majority of my time on campus. In fact, most days, I wouldn’t leave until the buildings were locked for curfew. Pretty much the only thing that set me apart from being a boarding student was not sleeping in a dorm room. Whether it was doing homework in the library with a group of friends, socializing in the dining hall, or competing in weekend sports competitions, I’ve had so many memorable moments with my friends at Choate. Now, with Covid-19 restrictions in place, I can no longer do many of the things that I cherish about being at Choate.
I thought back to the times when the cross country team would gather in a dark locker room for a session of “Neditation,” when the robotics team would take a celebratory trip to Popeyes after a weekend of competitions, or when the Environmental Action Coalition would squeeze into the kitchen at the Student Activities Center to bake vegan desserts. As I sat alone on the grass, watching the ducks enjoy their time together, I reflected on these moments that defined the tight-knit community that exists at Choate. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until the pandemic struck that I realized how much I took these memories and relationships for granted.
While some of the normal activities have resumed, there is now a lack of the intimacy that bonded students. With only two students per table, the dining hall is no longer much of a social scene. Weekend sports competitions now limit their attendance levels. All-school gatherings no longer take place in-person, and exploring the Wallingford community — one of the most unifying experiences for Choate students — is prohibited. More than just a handful of the activities that would typically bring the student body together have disappeared. All of this can’t help but erode the fabric of the community.
Eleven months have passed since I first bought the ducks, and they are now much bigger and lay fresh eggs that my brothers and I eat. Yet, each time I release them into my backyard, it seems that their relationship only gets stronger. The love they share and their longing to be together have helped me realize the importance of social interactions, especially during a time of heavy isolation. With only a month left until my graduation, my goal, thanks to these ducks, is to cherish the relationships that I’ve been fortunate enough to build over the past four years.
