In the quiet heart of a remote village, nestled between rice fields and banana groves, lived a kind-hearted farmer named Cutis. He was a gentle man with rough hands and a warm smile who had dedicated his life to taking care of animals. But his constant companion wasn’t just any farm animal—it was a clever baby monkey named Momo. Momo was more than just a pet; he was like a child to Cutis, always riding on his shoulder, mimicking his movements, and helping with daily chores in the most adorable and surprising ways.
One sunny afternoon, something unexpected happened. The air was humid and filled with the sounds of buzzing insects and chirping birds when a small group of frightened ducks wandered near Cutis’s farm, looking weak and disoriented. They were quacking desperately, and some of them limped as if injured. Cutis, puzzled, knelt down and observed them closely.
“These ducks aren’t from around here,” he muttered. “They look like they’ve come a long way… and not in good shape.”
Momo hopped off his shoulder and rushed toward the ducks, chirping curiously. He gently touched one with his tiny hand and looked back at Cutis with concern. The bond between them was so close that even without words, Cutis understood what Momo was trying to say.
Suddenly, a local boy came running, panting. “Uncle Cutis! The river upstream is drying up. Some ducks from the marsh got trapped in the mud and separated from the flock. These must be the ones that escaped.”
Without wasting another second, Cutis packed a small bag with first-aid supplies, a bottle of clean water, some grains, and a cloth. He placed Momo gently in a sling he wore across his chest and hurried off in the direction the boy had come from. Momo, wide-eyed and alert, kept turning his head from side to side, as if scanning the area for signs of distress.
As they approached the shallow marshland, the scene was heartbreaking. The water had almost completely dried up, and the muddy bank was now a sticky trap. At least a dozen ducks were stuck, their wings flapping weakly, their webbed feet barely able to move. They were coated in dark, heavy mud, struggling in vain to escape.
Cutis quickly sprang into action. He removed his boots and waded into the sludge. It wasn’t easy—every step was a challenge. The mud sucked at his legs, trying to pull him down. But he pressed on.
Meanwhile, Momo, sensing the urgency, jumped down from the sling and ran along the drier patches of mud. He squeaked and chirped, trying to encourage the ducks. Incredibly, the ducks seemed to respond to his presence. Perhaps it was the tone of his voice or the softness of his movements, but they calmed down just a little, making it easier for Cutis to work.
Cutis gently freed the ducks one by one. He’d lift them carefully, wrap them in a cloth, and place them in a basket he had brought along. Momo helped by bringing small pieces of cloth and even plucking bits of dried grass to clean the ducks’ wings. The most touching moment came when Momo carefully rubbed mud from a baby duckling’s eyes using a soft leaf. The duckling let out a weak chirp and nestled against Momo, as if saying thank you.
It took nearly two hours, but finally, all the trapped ducks were freed. Some were in better shape than others, but all were alive—and that was what mattered most.
Back at the farm, Cutis created a makeshift pond using an old plastic tub and fresh water. He lined it with soft straw and shaded it with palm leaves. One by one, he and Momo washed the ducks, fed them soaked grains, and examined their injuries.
Some ducks had cuts from thorny vines, while others were simply exhausted and dehydrated. Momo stayed close by every moment. He acted like a little nurse—offering water in a tiny cap, softly patting the ducks, and curling up beside them as they rested. Even the nervous ones seemed to trust him. The scene was so heartwarming that even a few neighbors who came by were left in awe.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said one elderly woman. “That monkey has more compassion than some people I know.”
Over the next few days, Cutis and Momo took turns caring for the rescued ducks. Momo would wake up early and check on the flock before Cutis even finished his coffee. He’d alert Cutis if one seemed unwell, and even refused to eat his favorite banana when a duckling was too weak to stand. That day, Cutis mashed up banana with some cornmeal and gently fed both the duckling and Momo. Momo only ate after his new feathery friend had taken a few bites first.
Word spread throughout the village about the rescue. Soon, schoolchildren came to visit the “duck hospital,” and Momo became a local celebrity. Kids would giggle as Momo showed them how to gently stroke the ducks and feed them. Even the shyest child left smiling.
A week later, the ducks had recovered well. Their feathers had regained their shine, their steps were strong, and their quacks sounded full of life again. It was time to return them to their natural habitat.
Cutis found a nearby wetland that still had enough water and vegetation to support them. He built a small raft and placed the ducks on it, while Momo sat in front like a captain, steering with a stick.
As they pushed the raft onto the water, something magical happened. The ducks didn’t just swim away. They circled back, quacking loudly, as if saying goodbye. One duckling even jumped onto the bank and nuzzled Momo before returning to the water.
Cutis placed a hand on Momo’s head and said softly, “You’ve got a big heart for such a small creature.”
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills, painting the sky in gold and orange, Cutis sat on his porch with Momo curled in his lap. The day had been exhausting, but their hearts were full. They had done something special—not just saved animals, but reminded everyone around them what kindness looks like.
And from that day forward, whenever someone mentioned the “Duck Rescue,” they didn’t just talk about a man and his monkey—they spoke of a partnership, a bond, and a reminder that even the smallest beings can do big, heartwarming things.
