When the 'gate activated, Lorne and his team were there and ready, because although SA-1 had given the incoming code correctly, they hadn't said anything about why they were coming back early, and Weir was worried.
As it turned out, however, he wasn't ready at all, because-
"Are those ducklings?"
-Lorne really hadn't expected to see four ducklings waddle into the gateroom.
"Uh, ma'am?" he asked. Protocol kept him training his P90 at the ducklings, but it didn't keep him from feeling foolish as he did so.
"Well, I don't think they're a threat, Major, so you can lower your weapon," said Weir, raised eyebrow and wry smile clear in her voice.
The ducklings had been huddling together by the side of the 'gate, almost invisible in its curve, but they'd evidently been gathering their courage because two of them suddenly stretched up and began waddling with surprising speed away from the 'gate: one towards the gateroom stairs, the other aiming for the jumper bay exit. As Weir moved to scoop up the duckling attempting to jump its own height up the stairs, Lorne grabbed the one making for the jumper bay, visions of ducklings loose in Atlantis running through his head. It cheeped and tried to rear up, fluttering its tiny wings, and in his head, Colonel Sheppard said, Look, I'd very much appreciate it if you loosened your hold just a little, there.
Lorne looked down at the duckling in shock, automatically loosening his hands in response to a command from his superior. Who was a fuzzy duckling. Huh. Looking over at Weir, and at the tiny duckling she held - McKay, it had to be McKay with that impatient headtilt - Lorne felt a definite nostalgia for the not so distant time that his superior officers remained resolutely human. After all, once was misfortune, but twice was sheer carelessness.