Loss in the Yard

Ari Duckass and Dick the Duck

I don’t know what happened. That might be one of the worst elements of the whole thing. I’ve lost someone who amused me greatly. And I can see that the survivor feels the loss. But I haven't a clue what happened.

Something killed one of my ducks today while I was at work. The body was barely violated, lots of feathers off the neck. But chickens peck at everything and it’s likely that at least some of that damage happened after the fact. Whatever the fact was.

In the short time they’ve been here, these ducks’ personalities have impressed me. They are pushy, loud, bossy, and they want to have fun. Lots of fun. As soon as they learned to negotiate the in and out ramps to the barn, they daily pushed to the front of the line to race to their swimming pool. And it’s no lazy swim when the ducks jump in – they splash and dunk and, uh, have boy-girl fun in there!

Thinking about boy-girl, I’m not certain if it was the male or the female duck that was killed. Only their voices differentiated them for me. But their swimming pool antics assured me I had one of each, and I’d already begun to anticipate more fuzzy yellow ducklings next spring. Now there will be none.

The surviving duck has been largely silent. But is that a trait, or is that because she has no one left to talk to?

The survivor.

Addendum, Wednesday morning. Lots of quacking in the barn, and I found a duck egg. I think it was the male who died.