My sweet little duck passed away the night I wrote about her. I was far more relieved than I imagined I would be. She was just peaceful when I found her the next morning, and I found myself so thankful for the wonderful life she had been able to experience. Truly, I cannot imagine a better life for a duck, and she got more than seven years of it. I have so much love for the little animals on this little farm, and I have come to understand that they know this. And, my gosh, that helps with the hard parts.
Last night, it was late when I was putting up the ducks. I called for them and held out the white bowl of peas, and four of them came right away–our drake and three of the old girls. I couldn’t see Anna Maria right away, but I heard her. Because she is blind, I have go searching for her many nights, but I could hear she was close. I kept calling for her.
“Watch out for the rocks!” I called, as she bumped right into the rocks that line the fire pit. But she bounced off, as she does, and kept coming.
“You got this, Anna Maria!” I called, as she came running.
“But wait, there’s a pumpkin vine!” I called as she approached a long pumpkin vine that has spilled out over the fence and into the yard. Sure enough, it caught her, but she shook her webbed feet and escaped the vine’s grasp and was on her way.
I held the peas until she made it to me, and everyone dug into. Even with just five ducks now (down from our seven), they can devour a large bowl of peas in seconds.
Even though Anna Maria will hate me until the very end, I adore that duck. She is so resilient and strong. Ron said she will probably hobble her little blind duck self all the way until she’s the last duck standing. I actually hope not. Can you imagine me trying to care for a duck who hates me all by myself?
But seeing her in action is joyful. She is absolutely a reminder to me that there are good things in life, even when times are tough and you are down. That duck is an inspiration for sure.
And there are other amazing parts of this life. Seven or eight years ago, Ron and I planted a Transparent apple tree. It’s not one known for growing well in Maine, but Ron and I both have a long history with this unusual apple. When we met, it was one of the ways I knew we were meant to be together. His favorite kind of apple was the Transparent–as was mine. And I had only ever had a Transparent apple twice because they are so rare. I actually spent years calling around to apple orchards every fall to see if they had Transparent apples. Ron’s grandparents had a large Transparent apple tree in their yard when he was growing up. He has so many good memories of the tart apple. They are great for cooking.
Ron and I have waited patiently and then without hope that our apple tree was ever going to make a single apple, but this year, it produced! I am so excited to get these apples.
And Ron has fallen in love with the turkeys, and it’s the sweetest thing I have ever seen. I thought they would be mama’s babies forever, but they are giant, giant daddy’s babies. I am no longer strong enough to carry them to bed at night. They refuse to go to their house and roost on our back porch and watch through the glass door while I cook dinner. So every night, Ron carries these giant birds to their roosts inside their house.
Last night, I watched, as our favorite girl, a white turkey who really needs a name, walked right onto Ron’s hand and balanced herself as he held her on his arm. It was beautiful. The trust she has for him is magical.
And I have one more lovely story. The other night, we had just finished putting up our first round of green beans, and it was time to feed the mice. Jeremiah, our rescued deer mouse, is a foodie and is very picky but loves garden fare. We had some tips of the green beans left, and the beans have been really, really good this year. I wondered if he might like a few green bean tips for his dinner.
I collected the dinner options for Jeremiah and his friend, Cynthia, who does not like garden food so much but loves popcorn. So I had blueberries, walnuts, popcorn, and two green bean tips of decent size. I will add something that I am sure will be no surprise to you–both Jeremiah and Cynthia are chunky mice.
Anyway, I gave Cynthia a piece of popcorn and then held out a green bean tip in front of Jeremiah. He leaned in and took a nibble but pulled back. I held it there in front of his mouth just for a little longer in case he changed his mind but decided to give up. I was just about to pull away with the bean when his little paw reached up to my finger as if to say “wait a minute. I’m still deciding.”
I held the bean there a little longer while he held his paw on my finger and considered the bean.
He ended up taking it!
