Second Tuesday on Franklin Hill Farm

Detail from bottom photo

Ducks

By
Bettina Sperry

Several months ago I purchased five Pekin ducks and two mallards. I raised them in the kitchen for a short few weeks and then took them outside to finish their rearing. They were handled daily as they matured. As the Pekins turned from yellow to white, and the mallards gained their colors, they graced the creek in the pasture next to the house. Over time, as they grew, they wandered up and down the creek, swimming in the larger holes where they could.
    Ducks are easy to care for provided that one has an adequate source of water. There’s little work involved other than providing feed. They are quiet animals and don’t make a lot of demands on my time. They are joyful and happy for the most part and can be very affectionate and loyal to their clan.
    The biggest problem with raising ducks is other animals. On the narrow creek, the ducks have limited protection from predators. True, they are close to the dogs and horses, which can help provide a degree of protection. But a fox could easily slip down and grab one while the ducks are sitting on the creek’s edge, or just as easily step into the shallow water. I was sure the ducks would fare better on my pond, where the water is much deeper for escaping a predator.
    From time to time I can hear a fox barking on the nearby fields. The barks sound something like a high-pitched, repetitive, gargled cry far off in the distance. I do know the sound of a fox, as I’ve seen plenty of them, and sometimes within yards of me. When they are hungry, they are not shy. Fearing for my ducks, I made the leap from creek to pond.
    While the mallards definitely need a larger body of water than the creek, I was sure that the Pekins also would appreciate being able to paddle for hours in the larger pond. So, I loaded them up one day and took them for a ride in the tractor. I took them down to my pond, which is about a quarter-mile down the road from the house.

    After unloading the ducks, with the large pond looming before their eyes, it became clear that they were very unsure what to do. I had to help them into the pond, as gently as I could. Honestly, they did appear to be afraid, but my reasoning and the fact that they are ducks assured me that at some point they’d adjust and be much happier.
    Day after day for a few weeks I’d check up on them, bring them food, and watch to see whether they were out on the pond. No such luck. I continued to gently move them into the water to get them paddling, hoping that they’d figure out the rest on their own and be happy with this large body of water gifted to them. Again, no such luck. Then finally, another check, and I was down one Pekin, subject to the fate of a hungry fox.

One day while I was checking up on them, one of the mallards came running towards me with the rest of the flock behind her. She just stood there, continuing to look at me. The look on the face of the mallard said “panic.” How in the world could a mallard not be happy with a large pond? There’s a lake just a short distance down the road, so my thinking was that over time the mallards would be even happier down there. However, knowing the personality of a Pekin, I could understand to a degree that they needed to be returned to the creek, but there was no logic that a mallard needed something different from what was provided.

    I gathered up some materials and went down to the pond to capture the ducks. One by one I picked up the Pekins and put them back in the tractor. I made the decision to leave the mallards, hoping that they’d soon figure out life on the pond in front of them. They had fish, algae, and other small pond organisms on which to feed. They really had everything a mallard could ever want. I got on the tractor and drove the Pekins back to the creek. They immediately walked down to their old habitat. The next day I saw that I was down to three Pekins.
    Another trip to the pond and I had the privilege of seeing the mallards rise up together in flight across the water. What a beautiful sight that was. It seemed they understood their calling. I left and went on about my business, feeling certain that the Pekins were where they belonged, and the mallards, too, were where they belonged.

One evening, having just arrived home from work, I stepped out to do my routine farm chores. Standing in the front yard, I raised my head and saw two mallards looking at me from the road. They made a right turn into the yard and came running towards me just as fast as they could. The word “mom” registered as I watched them run. I opened the gate and little effort was required to head them down to the creek on which they were raised. They were home. Happily so.

One of the things that I love best about my farm is that I experience new things on a regular basis – new things of which I have no full knowledge or understanding. I have come to accept that “I don’t know” is an acceptable way to get through the day. The “I don’t know” leads me to new knowledge – if I am willing to learn and rethink my understanding of what I am looking at.
    This event with the ducks reminded me how people construct their own knowledge and understanding of life events, situations, and circumstances – and make solid arguments for why they believe they understand with accuracy and minute detail all that occurs in the lives of friends and acquaintances. Often, when they express their understandings of things of which they have no firsthand experience or knowledge, they do so with a large degree of inaccuracy, never guessing that perhaps they really don’t know what they’re talking about. A good rule of thumb would be to recognize the limitations of an armchair perspective when dealing with the lives of others. Humbleness to the intricacies of life is a worthy virtue.

Copyright © 2015 by Bettina Sperry