Spring arrives hard in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Weeks of snow can disappear in a matter of days as warm temperatures turn creeks into rivers and fairways into sponges. To protect a new resort golf course from flooding, engineers installed an elaborate underground drainage system fed by large metal grates. The openings were carefully designed so a golf ball couldn’t fall through. Unfortunately, nobody had considered ducklings.

She was the only child of proud Upper Peninsula parents – a blonde-haired young woman with a degree in social work from Michigan Tech and a lifelong soft spot for every creature that walked, flew, or crawled. After graduation she moved to Chicago and began working for Cook County Social Services.

He was a bond trader from Chicago’s North Shore. Raised in a successful family, he grew up playing golf a private club and carried single-digit handicaps.

The relationship was becoming serious. Before the couple took the next step and moved in together, she insisted on one thing. “You need to meet my parents.” Not over dinner. Not over coffee. Over golf!

Dad immediately volunteered to host the outing. Wanting to make a favorable impression, he chose the area’s newest resort course. The green fees nearly made him choke – over $600 for the foursome, roughly a quarter of his annual membership at his home course – but some investments are worth making. His daughter certainly was.

The morning began around the kitchen table with a hearty Upper Peninsula breakfast. Mom had carefully arranged separate bedrooms for the visiting couple, a detail that wasn’t lost on anyone. Conversation flowed easily. They talked about family, school, jobs, and future plans.

By the time they arrived at the course, the introductions had lost the feeling of a first meeting. The bag attendant asked, “How would you like the carts set up?” Everyone looked at one another. “Mom and I will ride together,” Blond Girl said. “The guys play the back tees anyway.” A few swings on the range, a handful of putts, and the foursome headed to the first tee.

The day could not have been going better. On one hole, Dad generously offered Bond Trader Beau a three-foot birdie putt. Beau smiled and shook his head, “Harvey Penick says a birdie isn’t a birdie unless you hole the putt.” Mom smiled. Dad smiled. Blond Girl smiled. Then Dad winked. The young man was passing every test.

A few holes later, the men launched long drives down the left side of a dogleg fairway while Mom’s tee shot drifted into the rough on the right near the bottom of a shallow valley. As the girls approached the area, Blond Girl noticed a hen mallard pacing frantically nearby. The bird circled, squawked, and hissed when they came close. Something wasn’t right. Then she heard it – Cheep… cheep… cheep… The sound was faint but unmistakable.

Following the noise, Blond Girl and Mom discovered a large metal drainage grate. Looking through the openings, they saw six tiny ducklings paddling helplessly in the water several feet below. “Get the boys!” Blond Girl shouted. Her mind was already racing through rescue options.

Mom jumped into the cart and sped down the fairway, waving both arms. From a distance, Dad and Bond Trader Beau could see Blond Girl kneeling on the ground. What happened? Was she hurt? Their hearts skipped. They met Mom halfway down the fairway. When they arrived, Blond Girl pointed at the grate and shouted, “Help me get this cover off. The babies are trapped down there.” Bond Trader Beau took one look and immediately switched into problem-solving mode. “I’ll get the superintendent.”

A few minutes later he returned with a shaggy-haired maintenance worker carrying a long-handled dip net. The young man peered into the drain and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re planning to replace these covers. This happens all the time.” To Blond Girl, that sounded unbelievable. To Shaggy-haired worker, it sounded like Tuesday.

One by one, the ducklings were scooped from the drain and reunited with their anxious mother. The little family waddled off toward a nearby pond. Blond Girl smiled a sigh of relief. Mom wiped a tear. Dad realized Bond Trader Beau had earned a few more points.

The round continued without further drama. No one remembered the scores. But years later, everyone remembered the day six ducklings went down a drain and the round of golf became a rescue mission.