Due to her orthodox religious upbringing, Rebekah Stahle was dutifully obedient to the dictates of her parents, Noah and Miriam. Rebekah and her brothers Jedidiah and Daniel always wore the traditional garb of Mennonites: dark pants, white shirt and black flat-rimmed hats for the men; ankle-length frock with hair pinned back in a bun and a demur bonnet for the women. Their patriarch oversaw a sprawling one thousand acre farming concern across three states: corn, soy beans, tomatoes, beef cattle and ducks. The ducks were a profitable sideline which were ultimately destined for Chinese restaurants. Each family member had their assigned tasks but always pitched in to help whenever unforeseen difficulties arose. This communal effort strengthened their familial bonds.

Even though Rebekah was only twelve, her main duty was to take care of the ducks. Born in early spring, they required careful monitoring for control of diseases. This meant Rebekah had to keep the barn that housed the ducks as clean as possible and their feeding needed to follow a strict regimen. She didn't mind the work at all, the newborn ducks quickly became accustomed to her presence and within a month, they were completely tame. Rebekah enjoyed feeding them out of her hand when they were still quite small, they were so cutely comical when pleading for more food. As they grew bigger, she carefully measured out the food pellets for each enclosure that held five hundred ducklings.

Like all livestock, there were the inevitable deaths. Whenever she found one in the cages, she meticulously recorded it in the logbook knowing her father relied upon her for an accurate count. The dinner table conversation always revolved around yield estimates necessary for financial planning. The weather ruled the crop harvest but the livestock wasn't liable to much flucuation, you could always count on its production. Over the course of ten months, the family would lose approximately one thousand ducks before they were shipped to the slaughterhouse. Rebekah was always determined to produce the greatest number possible for her family. Tending fifty thousand ducks before and after school was a big responsibility for a twelve year girl and she wanted to do the best job possible.

At five pm on an overcast October afternoon, she walked to the ?bird house? to do the feeding. She opened the door and flicked on the light switch. Then she went over to the space heater to warm up the barn for the coming night. When she flipped the switch, there was a sudden bright flash of light which terrified her as the cable to the space heater started arcing. The trim molding of the doorway quickly caught fire and thick smoke began to curl towards the ceiling. She ran to the house faster than she ever had to tell her mother to call the fire department. As her mother was making the call, Rebekah glanced out the window at the barn. An alarming blast of fire was guttering out of the window and the outside wall was starting to burn. She was mortified by what was happening, she was so afraid she had made an unforgivable mistake.

The wail of sirens drew closer and she ran outside, hoping the firemen could douse the blaze. But by the time two fire engines pulled into the barnyard, the building was burning furiously. Rebekah could hear the ducks screaming and it broke her heart. Her fear turned to sorrow and tears dripped down her face. Her father and two brothers arrived but it was too late, the building was too far gone to stop. The heat was so intense, the steelwork was beginning to melt. All the firemen could do was keep the fire from spreading to the other buildings. All of Rebekah's commitment was turning to ashes and she was inconsolable. Her father hugged her and reminded her that it wasn't her fault at all. She hugged him back but couldn't stop crying.

The fire smouldered for two more days, a grim reminder of the calamity. Rebekah couldn't help but wonder about the reason why it had happened. She had been so careful to do what needed to be done and look at the consequences. Her father's reassurance helped but the memory of that flash of light still sent shivers through her body. Every time she thought about the ducks, tears welled up in her eyes. She wondered if she would ever get over the traumatic convulsions. And the moral of the story is . . . don't bother counting your ducklings even after they've hatched . . . or been fried. And if you're waiting for them to come home to roost, you can forget about that too!