Posts Tagged ‘Duck’

Mallard hen


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Three mottled ducks were turned out yesterday. The promptly flew away and were gone all day yesterday.

They were back this morning.







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Drake in the sun


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Ducks in a row


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The three ducks

Only three ducks remain on the pond:  the two Khaki Campbell cross siblings (drake and hen) and the wild mallard hen.




These ducks are now as wild as any you’ll see at a park pond.  When a person approaches they fly into the water and stay there.

I don’t think any of our native predators, save a mink or an otter, is going to waste time trying to catch them in the water.

Unless there is an alligator or bull shark in the pond, I think they are pretty safe.

That khaki drake is as gorgeous as he is wary and wise.

When he was just a duckling, he used to decoy the dog away from his siblings.

I hope he and that mallard hen have ducklings this spring.

But let’s not count the eggs before they hatch.




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I backed over a duck last night.  Miley had brought it near my car, and I guess it hid there are all day. When I moved the car, I crushed it.

I was very upset about it, and I still am.

I decided the only thing I could do is give a proper funeral. I had seen fox tracks the night before about 30 yards from a grove of aspen.  As I’ve noted before, I want my own ashes spread in an aspen grove. Quaking aspen are among the first real trees to colonize a pasture or clear-cut in the forest succession. I want my elements to break down and become part of the aspen, which will feed grouse while they live, and then as they decay, they will feed the oaks and hickories and maples that come with the maturing forest.


I placed it there in the grove.


This is the duck that used to eat from my hand. The tamest of the lot. It had a good life, swimming and foraging as ducks do.

But it is gone now.

My only hope is that maybe a young fox that is just dispersing from his parents’ territory will come by and enjoy a free meal.

That’s all I can hope for.

This is my penance for my killing.

Pay it forward.

I am an odd fellow mourning the death of an animal like a duck.

If it were a wild animal or a real farm bird, that would be a different matter.

But it’s too much like family to eat.

So it must be passed along into the carbon cycle.


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So much for that. I was, however, able to call her off.


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One of the mom’s ducklings is undergoing a transformation. This is the one dad calls Oscar:




Just a few weeks ago, he looked like this:


And as a duckling, he looked like this:


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