Duck drama...

Blanche, Bianca and Bill have settled in nicely since their arrival this spring. At night they go into their coop so I can keep them safe from all the animals that would relish a hefty duck for dinner. Each morning I hear them quacking, "LET US OUT!" and I do. The lady ducks leave lovely eggs that feel like porcelain in one corner, ready for me to collect each day.

 Once released, they eat vast quantities of poultry food, then waddle to their pool where they plunge their heads up and down in the water, blowing bubbles out their nostrils, and perhaps hopping in for a little splash. Then the girls go to the small hole in the fence that we cut so the birds can have access to the pasture. They lower their heads and step through, then go exploring, side by side, across the wide expanse of grass and puddles, nibbling on green shoots and eating bugs.  Poor Bill is beside himself. His wee duck brain cannot grasp how to get through that gap. Every day he stands right there, and watches the chickens and his lady ducks exit and reenter through the wire, but he is stuck in the hen yard, pacing and calling frantically.  I have placed a mound of grain on the other side to tempt him to poke his head though and discover "freedom."  No dice. I have moved his beloved pool to the pasture side of the hole, it goes unused. I fear Bill is a little dim.

In case you are wondering why their pool water is so dark, it is because they "drill" their bills into the dirt, then sift the dirt into the water. Ducks are messy. I fill their pool with clean water every day, and within moments it looks like this. But I digress. 

This morning while I was doing chores, Bravo let me know there was something in the pasture that didn't belong.  He barked his special bark, the one that tells me there is a Raven in the grass, or a seagull, or a FOX. I froze and looked to where he was staring. At first I didn't see anything, except that Bill was desperately trying to wedge through the fence, in a place he simply would not fit.

Then I saw the grass move, and a small dark form, and realized why Bill was so excited.

A little Mallard duck had flown if for a visit! 

Blanche and Bianca bobbed their heads and quacked in pleasant tones. The Mallard quacked back, her voice a higher pitch than the Pekin's.

Poor Bill wanted to meet her up close and in person. But alas, even a lovely guest duck was not enough motivation for him to figure out the elusive poultry pathway.

After a few moments, the Mallard flapped her wings and was gone, whistling over the grass, lifting above the fence and heading towards the mill pond.  The flightless Pekin's craned their necks to watch her go. And Bill remained, prisoner of his own limited thinking, stuck in the hen yard, while inches away the other birds are able to wander to and fro at will. Poor Bill.