Day of the Ducks

It was early winter when the ducks moved in. Snow was on the ground and ice had formed on the lakes. There were a couple – a drake and a female. Because they were mixed, part mallard and part domestic, they couldn’t fly away come winter as the lake froze over. The people that fed them throughout the summer were no longer out throwing bread scraps. The mallards flew south, but these ducks were left to fend for themselves, and they couldn’t. This is how they ended up at the Humane Society animal shelter before they starved or froze to death.
I was a board member of this Humane Society and the workers knew that I wanted some of what I called ‘decorative’ garden fowl. I had a house in the county with acreage and wanted something picturesque to wander around the yard. I already ‘rescued’ a very large rooster that was picked up running about in the north end of the county. He was big, but good natured. Friends asked if it was a turkey – city folk! I could easily pick him up and he got along with the dogs. They quickly learned to keep their distance as he had long spurs and big wings that he would flap at them when they got too close.
Being able to pick up the rooster proved handy when I needed to first check him for lice. And then I got to treat him for the lice. That’s another story.
Life with the rooster, dogs and cats was fine. They all knew their place in the hierarchy. That is until one day while the dog Molly was peacefully lying in the sun warmed grass when the rooster jumped her. He either was trying to mount her or needed a better post from which to crow.
Molly was 65 pounds of dog and really pretty startled at having something, anything, actually try to climb up on her. I was startled as to what the heck was going on. This is surely unnatural. Then it occurred to me that the rooster might need a chicken, or two. Interspecies relationships just aren’t going to work for any number of reasons. And I lived in a religious area where Darwin wasn’t considered a proper subject for science class.
So I got chickens from the Humane Society, two Rhode Island Reds. Seems certain ethnic groups living in the city like to keep fresh animals on hand. Whether for Santaria rituals or food, I don’t want to ask. And when they get out – animal control is called. The shelters want to adopt them out as soon as possible. Farm animals bring a whole new level of issues.
So by the time the ducks moved in there were the dogs, cats, chickens with rooster. Room was made in the little outbuilding for the two ducks and a big water bowl. I didn’t know if the ducks actually needed the ability to swim through the winter months. There was a small ornamental goldfish pond in the yard, very small, But they didn’t want to walk through the snow to get to it.
I learned many things, including that ducks are very messy. Chicken poop is much easier to clean up than ducks splats. We got through the winter alright. The shared living quarters for the poultry proved fine with everyone getting along. I had my hands full keeping things clean, however.
Soon it was spring and all the critters could spend more time outside. Ah, in spring a drake’s fancy turns to thoughts of sex. The first problems were with the dogs. I’d catch the duck chasing after Molly. The drake couldn’t really fly, which he why he was here in the first place. Instead he did a low level combo run and fly chasing Molly around the yard. She thought this was great fun, as the duck tried to bite her in the butt. To her it was a game. And it was rather amusing to see a bottom heavy duck chasing a 65 pound dog.
Then there was Sydney, the other dog. Sydney had a fondness for birds, the fondness that comes in hunting genes. He had already dispatched a Rhode Island Red hen – first time I ever had one pet kill another. I scolded him even though he looked so pleased with himself as the brown feathers fell from his lips. Fortunately I was in the yard when the duck bit Sydney in the butt. I ran quickly to snatch up the duck away from the jaws of death.
Then one day as I was enjoying the spring weather I saw the rooster dragging around the duck who had his bill clamped onto the roosters wing! Break it up!
As I sat at the picnic table the ducks would wander over to me and slyly nibble at the hem of my pants. I think they wanted to bite more, but were testing the waters.
The duck was uncontrollable. He ran after the cats. He continued to chase after Molly who was starting to tire of this game. None of the animals were safe to wander the yard without finding themselves victims of the sex crazed duck.
As soon as the cats got out the back door they would run and jump over the fence for safety. Sydney would no longer even go out into the backyard; I had to let him out the front door to do his business.
One day the duck was walking past when I noticed little dots on his white head. I picked him up to look closer. I think they were peck marks! He must have tangled with Mr. Rooster again.
Oh, the horror of it. There was no enjoyment to be found in the yard. Everyone had to keep an eye open for that duck. He would run for any critter in his sight! Quack – quack, and fastened his bill onto a feather, some fur, a leg. He was unstoppable!
The duck was terrorizing everyone. Couldn’t sit outside and we didn’t have a moment’s peace.
Resettlement was the only solution. I consulted with the people at the Humane Society. They pull me in touch with a wildlife rehabilitator that specialized in waterfowl.
I put the crate in the back of my truck and grabbed the two ducks and took along a forty pound bag of feed. Off I drove. The rehab place was most of a half acre lot. It was fenced in and had a nice large pond. There was a crowd of Canada geese and several ducks. Many of the geese had angel wings, a deformity that made them unable to fly.
We carried the crate into the yard and let out the ducks. The drake ran into the throng. At first he seemed in sex crazed mode, but then he became aware of all the other ducks, female ducks. Oh he was going to be busy for some time – defending and seeking new conquests.
When I got home I made a nice beverage and went out into the yard. The dogs came out cautiously; the cats joined us. Then chickens stared to wander about the yard pecking among the plants for bugs. No one was being chased. There seemed to be a collective sigh of relief. My peaceable kingdom had returned.