On to the Ducks...

(Note: this was written several years ago. See previous blogs.)

My memory is hazy as to dates, but about two years ago we bought some baby ducks, six to be accurate about the number if not the time of acquisition.  Now everyone knows that ducks love water, but that is a bit of a problem when all you have is a penned in yard for your fowl to run in, and exercise their little legs, and catch bugs and eat table scraps.  But, to get back to the water.  I felt that these ducks should have something to paddle about in.  All I had was a baby bath, and since I had no further use for it other than a possible over-sized dish pan, or a litter box, I decided that this would become the ducks’ "pond".  Every day I would fill it, and inside of ten minutes those dumb ducks had practically emptied it.  They would jump in, flap their wings, beat their wings in the water, and spray everything within a three foot area.

            The water spraying from the hose into the pan was like pushing a mating button on the drake.  He would immediately become overwhelmed with a desire to consummate his relationship with the females, and wore himself out exhibiting his sexual prowess to the other birds, and any other voyeur in the area.  He became the Clark Gable of the duck pen, a real lover.

            I decided one day that they required something larger to swim (or wade) in.  The baby bath was rather cramped when three ducks tried to get in at the same time.  With spade in hand, I climbed the fence and began to dig.  I was going to dig a pond for my babies, and my little feathered family would love me forever.  Only a nut would dig a hole in a duck pen that was, in the end, about two feet in diameter, and possibly two feet deep, before the force of the hose pushed half of the loose ground back into the hole.

           You see, nobody hits water two feet down, and so now, instead of filling a baby bath, I was filling a hole, which took about four times longer to fill, and the ducks still emptied it, though it took them a bit longer.  But it did my heart good to see them swimming, for they could actually swim if they stayed right in the middle and if they went around in a circle.  Every so often I would have to take the spade and dig the hole out again.  One time, in digging it out I found an egg.  One of the ducks must have been too lazy to climb out and lay it.  Either that, or they were playing golf and it got putted into the water trap.  The best days for the ducks and me were the days we had a heavy downpour.  The rain filled the hole and soaked the ground so that it took longer for the water to soak in.  It might be two or three days before I’d have to get the hose out again.

            I enjoyed the ducks.  I liked watching them, and I even talked to them and they would quack back, but don’t mention this to anyone, for they might think I’ve gone “quackers”.