Duck Rescue/Release

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Chip looking pretty regal.

You may remember Chip-Chip as a tiny duckling rescued from our cat’s and dog’s mouths. He lived for a few weeks in my bedroom, then the garage , then the woodshed and finally in our pond. He’s free to go but for the time being he prefers waddling after me in the garden and having a chat. One day I was scolding a daughter for lopping off the head of a Brussels sprout plant and noticed Chip sitting at my feet (he’s very quiet when he wants to be!). I couldn’t stay mad about the sprouts, could I?

Chip is far friendlier than the domesticated ducks we raised and eagerly gave away (we still have two Khaki Campbells Sophie and Ferdinand–our one daughter calls him Ferdiler for some reason). he gets bonus points for coming when he’s called and napping on my lap. I see him stretching his wings now and again so he may leave us someday, but for now we’ll enjoy him.

Shuffling Life and Animals Around

After the drakes went wild this spring along with the roosters we found most of them new homes and breathed a sigh of relief, but then Oliver our cat brought us this little gift:

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Some people told us to just put it somewhere in the woods to die, but I couldn’t–knowing kitty was lurking. Actually it was our dog Nala who I first spotted with the duckling (about a day old at the time) in her mouth with a guilty look. She dropped it and I scooped it up.

After a day or two experimenting with duck language the little thing began to talk to me–and still does. It likes to be cuddled too. I’ll release it once it gets it’s feathers (if it wants to leave).

Our one goat has a staph infection and can’t nurse her baby until the round of penicillin ends. Here’s a fuzzy pic of her baby. It almost looks like a painting to me:

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Speaking of blur, life has been speeding along. Our foster girl is talking about being adopted a lot (a good thing since that’s the plan). Hippotherapy has been a great thing for her. Her PTSD behaviors have diminished greatly. I just love going to be with the horses:

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There’s tons of weeding to be done but it’s too hot and I need a break from the farm work and kid work  for today so I’ll just enjoy the flowers and pretend not to see the weeds.

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Captured Light on an Autumn Evening

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No flash, no filters. Things move in the light quickly. The light moves quickly, too.

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A chance few moments out of doors . . .

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Supper awaits, but it’s better to feed the eyes first.

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If there is  meaning to it all only a wise soul can translate the feeling into words.

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Give thanks! Give thanks! This is all my tiny mind comes up with and even these thoughts fade with the sun and the indoor cares–dishes to wash, fires to built.

Only minutes before, the sky was ordinary. The sheep were ready to be reunited with their goat friends after a day in the summer garden.

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The ducks waddled towards the coop they invade each night, much to the annoyance of the chickens.

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If I’d gone in a minute earlier the mundane beauty of the animals would have been enough.

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Yet sometimes we are treated to more than enough, and every once in a while we remember to bring our camera.

Psalm 19:1,2—The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech and night to night reveals knowledge.

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Country Life: Ducks for No Reason

We were told by the experts that Khaki Campbell ducks don’t make babies.To clarify they hardly ever get broody and if by chance they do the Khaki duck makes a terrible mother. Some of you remember the big chicken massacre of  winter 2015 when Sophie the duck managed to flee the blood thirsty fox but not without a noticeable limp.

043We assumed she’d kick the bucket but wanted a few more ducks so we stole a few eggs and gave them to a broody chicken.

Summer arrived and suddenly Sophie would go missing for hours, only appearing once or twice a day with much fanfare and noise. Ferdinand was always thrilled to see her–for 15 minutes–and off she’d go again. We discovered her 11 eggs tucked in a nest where the sheep now grazed.

Before we could decide what to do Sophie shocked us when she ran out the next day with a tiny malformed duckling dead and hanging from her mouth. My daughter and I grabbed all her eggs and found another broody chicken. Sophie screamed and cried for her eggs–so we gave a few back.

Now we have chickens who think they’re ducks and ducks who think they’re chickens all over the property. Turns out Sophie was not half bad as a mother after we rescued her baby from Ferdinand that first week. My husband re-enacted a great high school football moment with a flying dive to save the little critter. We let mother and baby bond for a while in a big tub and set them free with some trepidation. But the bonding session worked and Sophie gave Ferd a piece of her mind when he tried to get near the duckling. Now they march around as a family unit–sometimes. Other times the little one hangs out with the friends he doesn’t know are his brothers and sisters.

We’re not really sure what to do with all these ducks–but they’re so adorable and most of us don’t like dark meat. I suppose they’re just lawn ornaments.