Tag: ducks

Lessons from a Little Brown Duck

~ Crystal Sands ~ 6 Comments

It is the end of an era on our homestead. Last Thursday morning, just a little after 8:00 AM, Anna Maria passed away.

She made it far longer than I thought she would after Luna passed a couple of weeks ago. For three days, Anna Maria sat and wouldn’t eat. I thought her end was very near. But, finally, one night, she came for the peas at bedtime and ate some. Then, the next day, she had some of her favorite wheat bread and ate more peas. I came to understand that she had been morning Luna. They were both old and near passing at about the same time, so they would sit together under the trees–just sit and be close for most of the day every single day. I didn’t understand the depths of Anna Maria’s sorrow until she started to get better. Of course, she was still near the end as well, and she finally passed late last week.

Anna Maria had a spirit and strength like I simply cannot describe. She went through so much but had such a will to live. She loved her life. It was pretty much as perfect as a duck’s life could get, I suppose, complete with peas every night before bed time from the servant and life with a flock that embraced her for who she was. The flock is still out of sorts without her. I have never seen them this upset for this long.

But there was so much I didn’t understand about Anna Maria. My way didn’t match her way, so for seven years, I did everything in my power to care for that injured, blind duck. Most often, she would hate me for it, though sometimes, she would come to me if she was injured. I never knew which one it was going to be with her, but I learned over time that it was going to be her way, not mine. And that was an important life lesson for me. It was one I wish I had learned sooner.

You see, my daughter, my oldest of my two children, has not spoken to me since last Christmas. I am so ashamed writing these words. I have always been of the mindset that if a child stops speaking to a parent it is on the parent to change and fix things, but I have not been able to do any fixing here. And it has been devastating.

In the last eight months, I have come to realize that my help for my daughter felt like control, though it was hard to watch her struggle so much–and she did struggle. Still, I realized a few months ago–thanks to Anna Maria–that she would rather struggle on her own and do things her own way and in her own time.

My epiphany came some time in late winter or early spring. There was still some snow on the ground, and Anna Maria would get stuck on the humps of snow. Since she was blind, rather than watch her struggle, if I saw her stuck, I would run outside, pick her up, and help her get to where she was going. She would always get upset though.

I always thought it was related to our history together. When I adopted Anna Maria, she had been badly injured due to over-mating, which is really common if you don’t have the right balance between males and females on a farm. The day I went to my friend’s farm to meet Anna Maria, my friend took me back to show me where Anna Maria had been rehabilitated thus far. There, in a crate, sitting quietly, sat a little chocolate Indian Runner duck. I could see her skull a bit, and I could see her eyes were a bit bubbly. I knew this meant sinus infection from the over-mating. She looked thin, dry, and tired.

My friend asked if I wanted to try to meet her, and by some miracle, Anna Maria went right to me. I held her in my arms for well over an hour as I toured my friend’s farm and the kids visited. Anna Maria never fussed, never left my arms, and seemed like she was meant to go with me. Now, after having Runner Ducks for over eight years, I deeply understand what a miracle this was. To say that Runner Ducks are skittish is to put in mildly. I will still never understand that experience with Anna Maria, except that she must have also understood she was meant to come with me.

But, oh my gosh! When I got Anna Maria home, it was on. I had to isolate and treat her, and she hated me for it. She bit and bit me during tub time when I would have to clean her sinuses. My arms were covered in bruises, and I was exhausted. I couldn’t believe what I had gotten myself into.

However, the day some months later I saw Anna Maria playing in the pool of water with the other ducks, it was all worth it. It was sunset, and the water droplets glistened as they rolled off her back. It was the first time I ever saw that duck experience joy–and it was pure joy. It was worth it.

I guess I just didn’t know where to stop with Anna Maria, especially after she went blind a few years ago. Her wounds never fully healed. It looked like they were healed on the surface, but Anna Maria remained fragile for the rest of her life. I definitely came to deeply understand long-lasting effects of trauma in my years with Anna Maria, and because of this, I am sure I over-mothered. The day of my epiphany, I decided not to run outside and help that little duck around the snow pile.

I just sat and watched out the window. For several minutes, she struggled. She kept bumping into the snow and getting turned around. She seemed distressed but determined. My instinct was to run save her from this trouble, but I resisted. And then, suddenly, it was like the nature of the obstacle clicked with her, and she went around and made it to her destination.

The realization came over me. Both Anna Maria and my daughter needed to struggle on their own and didn’t like my tendency to try to help too much, to try to fix things for them. They just wanted to figure things out on their own–at least sometimes. Sometimes, they needed me. I mean, there was more than one occasion over the years when Anna Maria was hurt and would come to me for help, but it was apparently my job to know the difference between the times when she needed help and the times she could do it herself. I needed to slow down and pay more attention to what she was telling me.

My heart broke because I wish I had learned this lesson earlier, before I lost my daughter.

Thursday morning, before Anna Maria passed, I held her a long time, just like I had done that first day I met her. She knew and I knew, and I think we were both thankful to say goodbye to each other. Ron and I put her in a bowl of water, so she could drink if necessary, but we knew she was close. I told her that I thought it was time to go see what else there is.

As I walked away, our male duck, Spyro, tried to mate with her, so I ran him off and moved her bowl to the other side of the fence. In this way, she could be near her land but safe from Spyro. This is life on the farm.

It worked out because she was right outside the kitchen window, so I could watch her while I made tea and coffee for me and Ron. I must have checked every ten minutes, and I could see her drinking sometimes but mostly being still.

Then, a little after 8:00 AM, I went outside to tell Boudica to stop digging a giant hole, and then I saw that Anna Maria had let go. She was still warm when I picked her up. I cried the big cry that hurt my chest. Giving into the cry felt worrisome though because of my long COVID, so I pulled myself together and realized I was just going to have to tough this out without giving into the grief.

Anna Maria was buried next to Poe and Sophie. All three of these creatures were my teachers of their species. I love my teachers.

The night before last, I received a message from my daughter’s partner that my daughter is struggling and might need me. I wrote back right away. I haven’t heard back.

The New Duck Game

~ Crystal Sands ~ 4 Comments

This weekend, our sweet duck, Luna, passed away. She had turned eight in May, and I could see in the last couple of weeks that the end was near. She mostly sat around and didn’t hunt bugs all day like the other ducks. The morning she died, when I let her out of the duck house, she just went to one of the water bowls, took a drink, and stared off into the distance for the longest time. I knew we were in trouble when the turkeys just completely gave Luna her space in the morning. Turkeys are generally terrible at giving people their space. They knew something was up. Turkeys know things, but that’s another post.

This was Luna watching Erin French’s The Lost Kitchen with me.

I miss Luna so much. She spent about three months in the house with us in 2023 when Bairre accidentally ran over her and badly injured her leg. Luna loved to watch television with me. We watched all three seasons of The Lost Kitchen together.

And Luna loved to fly.

When she couldn’t walk after her injury, I would pick her up and carry her from her bin to the bathtub for tub time and then back again. It didn’t take long for her to make a game out of it. She would flap and flap her wings, and I would hold her like she was flying through the air. Pretty soon, she wanted to fly all the time, so I would just carry her around while she flew when she would get antsy.

I am so thankful for that time to really know her. I am so thankful she got three more years on her life. She lived the best duck life, truly, and eight years old is a really good run for a runner duck.

There is more bad news though. Anna Maria is winding down as well.

Anna Maria is the blind duck that I inherited in 2019 after she had been over mated on her farm and was seriously injured. This is quite common when there is not a good balance of males to females in a flock. A few years ago, she went blind from her injuries, and well, I am not going to lie: Her care has been a profound challenge over the years.

The reason it’s so hard for her is because she has very little skin on her skull from her injuries early in life, so even a mild amount of mating from our male duck can cause trouble. This spring, like every spring for the last seven years, I had to change my life to help Anna Maria heal from being mated. Usually, after some time in the house, I am able to let her spend her days with her people but then have to catch her every night, so she isn’t locked in the duck house with our male.

This year was a really tough year though. One day she was fine, and the next day she looked like she had lost her left eye, and I could see her skull. It took a long time to heal her–a really long time. Her body is getting older, and all the things that I had done before to help speed along her recovery just weren’t working. It broke my heart when she started hiding from me at night because she didn’t want to be kidnapped and kept separate from the rest of the ducks, but obviously, she couldn’t be left alone with our male duck until her head healed and our male duck got over his “spring fever.”

Thankfully, she finally started to heal, and it was a good thing. I was so exhausted from everything else plus healing an injured duck that I COVID crashed really, really hard. When you COVID crash, your muscles stop working. It’s from the damaged cells. With long COVID, the cells in your muscles sometimes can’t replenish their energy, and it becomes hard to move. I have crawled up the stairs of this house way too many times in the last two years, but one night after weeks of caring for Anna Maria and then my son who got sick at the first of June, I couldn’t even crawl up the stairs. I remember sitting there on the stairs wondering what was going to have to happen for me to get up the stairs to our bedroom.

I had been thinking of asking Ron about getting more ducks, even though we swore we wouldn’t. But I couldn’t imagine my life without those ducks. Still, sitting there on those stairs for those minutes made me realize we probably didn’t need more ducks.

I finally made it up the stairs with some will I didn’t know I had, and I told Ron about the whole story later–including the part about wanting ducks. It turns out he had been thinking about ducks too.

“The only big trouble the ducks have been have all be related to Anna Maria,” he said. “She’s not a normal duck.”

We both agreed that we would not do a thing differently, that we were both so thankful to know Anna Maria and to see her strength but that she was, indeed, an epic amount of unusual work because she came to us with such profound injuries that would impact her for the rest of her life. The other ducks were pretty easy, outside of some bumble foot, which I now know how to treat very well.

The next morning, I didn’t give Ron a chance to change his mind. I ordered four little ducks from the same farm in California that we had ordered our original ducks from years ago.

For eight years, every night, I have been playing the duck game with the ducks. Every single night of our lives, I fill a white bowl of frozen peas, cook them, add water, feed the ducks, and then chase them around the duck house until they feel like going inside the duck house. They love this game and shake their little tails at me. I can’t imagine my life without the duck game.

In recent weeks, I have been playing a different duck game though. Anna Maria isn’t coming for peas. She’s hiding in the corner of the yard. I know this is a really bad sign, and every night, I get the flashlight and go on a hunt for our little blind duck. I find her, herd her toward the duck house, and once she’s with her people, she eats some peas–until tonight.

I have noticed that Anna Maria hasn’t been eating duck food the last two days. I have tried everything I can. I keep putting food in front of her. I even distract the turkeys and take bits of her favorite treat–Ron’s homemade wheat bread. But she’s not eating that either. Then, tonight, I played my new duck game. I went and found her, herded her toward the other ducks, put down the white bowl of peas, and for the first time in the last seven years since I have been caring for her, Anna Maria did not eat any peas.

I am heartbroken.

I am relieved I have served that duck as well as humanly possible. I have given her a really good life. She has spent her years in a beautiful yard with a pool and peas and people she loved (I mean, not me but her people), and she had her needs met in every way possible. She did have to deal with a male duck, but I worked really hard to keep her safe from him when necessary. Plus, to be fair, Anna Maria has always been a terrible flirt.

And, even though she never forgave me for all the medical treatment I had to give her when she had to be rehabbed when we first got her, she would never want me to tell you this, but sometimes, when she needed help, she would come to me. I would pick her up, and she would put her little head on my shoulder.

Oh, I am heartbroken.

The parts I like…

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

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!

I hate this part…

~ Crystal Sands ~ 4 Comments

Our ducks turned seven this May, and I knew this would be coming, that we would start to lose them. Still, I hate this part more than I can say.

Four nights ago, one of the hens didn’t come for the nightly bowl of peas and the duck game. I knew that was a bad sign, and when I went to pick her up, she was so thin.

I examined her and saw she had a minor bumble on a toe, so I wrapped it but had a very bad feeling. I put her back outside and decided the next morning to bring her in the house to examine her more thoroughly.

I don’t for sure which duck she is. I know Anna Sophia and Luna because they lived in the house for some months, but I can’t tell the other two ducks apart. Of course, there’s Anna Maria, our blind duck, but she is a chocolate runner. The two remaining fawn runners look a lot alike. This duck is either Carmen or Isabella. Those are the other two left.

I brought her into the guest bathroom where I have soaked and bandaged and treated and healed many things over the last seven years with our ducks. She had definitely been in the house before because she wanted in the tub. I took the bandage off of her toe and ran some cool water for her. I put her in the tub and got her all the favorite treats of ducks, and she wasn’t having any of them. I sat with her a bit, and then I saw it.

She pooped in the water a poop that I have seen before. It’s the poop of ovarian cancer. I saw it with Poe, with Broody Hen. I read about it online. I broke down because I knew, for sure, this duck was about to die.

She still had some strength and acted like she wanted to go back outside with her people when they would quack, so I decided to let her stay outside until she just couldn’t.

This is my little duck tonight. I am going to miss her.

Tonight, I decided she just couldn’t.

I have been checking on her many times a day the last couple of days, but today, I just couldn’t find her. In between meetings at work, I would look and never found her. I figured she was probably going off alone to die.

I finally found her in the corner of the turkey house, and tonight after dinner, I decided to scoop her up, bring her in, and go into hospice care.

I really, really hate this part.

She leaned into me so hard when I picked her up. I made up a bin for her with fresh straw and put a bowl of water and peas in for her. I know she won’t eat the peas, but I have been giving her peas every single night of her life for seven years. I wanted her to at least have them.

And then I remembered that ducks love cello. I found a piece my son played, a meditation on Tom Petty’s “Wild Flowers,” and I played it for her on my phone. It is has that beautiful, deep cello sound, so I knew she would love it. She did. She watched the video and just closed her eyes to relax. It was the best final gift I could give her.

I cried the gross kind of cry and held the phone for her, so she could listen to it twice. I kissed her goodnight and told her goodbye in case she passes tonight. I hope she passes tonight. Please say a little prayer that she passes tonight. She has had a good, very long life. I know this. I wish for her passing to be easy.

Also, Tuesday, Ruby’s daughter, is gone again. I think it’s been nearly two weeks since she’s been gone. I have looked and looked. She went off broody, as she has done before.

I deeply understand there is nothing I can do about her at this point. She has either passed or will come home in a few weeks with babies. I know the odds are that she will never come home. I hate writing that sentence.

There is much heartbreak to this life. Sometimes, I am not sure I am cut out for it.

Boudica is too good at her job…

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

I just spent an hour trying to get the ducks put to bed. They are so sensitive to routine that anything out of the ordinary causes all kinds of trouble. Every night, I have to come out of the same door with the same bowl with the same peas and say the same things and bend down carefully and then step away carefully or I have messed things and the ducks are upset.

Unfortunately, this is getting hard to do now because poor little Anna Maria. She is getting very, very blind and maybe a little senile. She is pretty old, and she had such a rough start in her early life that she seems older than our other ducks, even though she is the same age. She is getting lost a lot, and I have to help her find her way back to the flock at least once or twice a day.

This is no problem during the day, but when I am trying to put ducks to bed and need everything to happen in the “special duck order,” finding Anna Mara with a flashlight and then carrying her to the duck house is causes some problems.

Tonight, I could never get them back on track. I ended up leaving the bowl of peas outside of the duck house for in the morning and herding those ducks into the duck house against their will. I mean, I started this whole mess at 9:00 PM. It is now almost 10:00 PM. The ducks needed to get put up to be safe.

I realized as I was looking everywhere tonight for Anna Maria that it’s a miracle she is still alive. It is a miracle a predator hasn’t gotten her yet. I pray that doesn’t happen now that I speak about it, but having a blind duck who often gets separated from the flock is a big worry. Every night that I have to go look for her, I worry I won’t find her, but then I remember Boudica.

As long as we are home (and we are home most of the time), Boudica is working. She protects those ducks all day and into the night before I get them put up to give Boudica a rest. She has done such a good job that Anna Maria, our blind duck with struggles, is getting a little senile she’s so old.

I hope this doesn’t get too much worse for a while. I want Anna Maria to have a good quality of life. I think she does. She can find the little plastic swimming pool, and sometimes, when the other ducks are out and about, she just plays in the pool all by herself. I think she likes it. I don’t think she’s too lonely.

But Boudica is very, very good at her job, isn’t she?

Transition

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

We are in the transition period around here. I have many stories to tell but am only just now feeling well enough to write very much. I think I mentioned the week before last that my son was really sick. Of course, I caught it, and it was a rough one. I don’t think I have been this sick since COVID. But I am so happy to report that I am doing better, and today, for the first time, I was able to do some real work around the homestead.

I did a deep clean on the duck house, even the windows, which I am sure will be completely dirty again when I let them out in the morning, but I tried. I also worked on raking up the straw from around their house and around their food–and at the little warm spot under the dryer vent at the back of the house where the ducks like to hang out every winter. It was so snowy this winter that we put down a lot of straw for the ducks, and now, we have layers of straw to gather and compost. I didn’t get it all finished, but I made good progress. Next weekend I will try to finish that task.

I always wished for a barn for those ducks in the winter, but I don’t think we are ever getting a barn for them. The ducks will be seven years old this year, and I can see that we probably don’t have too many more years with them. In fact, the other night, when I went to give the ducks their peas, I couldn’t find Anna Maria. I was so worried because we have had the owls hanging out again. Hopefully, they are getting the rats, but I worried they maybe got Anna Maria. I found her though, and I knew there was trouble because she let me pick her up.

I brought her into the house to study her and couldn’t find anything wrong until I got to her vent. She had a soft-shelled egg stuck, only it wasn’t that soft. That poor baby! I held her, and Ron very gently got it out. She’s doing fine now, but this is not a good sign. The ducks are laying more soft-shelled eggs than proper eggs right now, so I had to research.

And it’s not easy to research this because it is rare to find anyone who has had Indian Runner ducks this long. In all of the forums I have ever been in, it’s rare anyone has a duck more than three years. Usually, the ducks are killed by predators, but Boudica and I work together to keep those ducks as safe as possible.

Anyway, all I could find was one Reddit thread where a woman asked about ducks in old age laying soft eggs. Only two people responded. One person said, to keep the ducks alive, they would need birth control, that laying eggs as their bodies are failing will kill them. This is devastating to me, but I looked up the birth control, and it’s about $300 per duck. That’s not possible, so I am going to hope and pray they just stop trying to lay. However, I did read that one thing you can do is supplement their diet with Vitamin D. I always thought soft-shelled eggs came from lack of calcium, which made no sense to me because they have a high calcium food. Interestingly, according to what I read, as the ducks age, their bodies stop processing Vitamin D very well, so they need extra. I hope that’s true because I started adding a vitamin mix to their water that has a lot of Vitamin D.

Please cross your fingers for little Anna Maria and Luna and Anna Sophie, our cello-loving duck.

Ron has been busy all week building a brood box for the turkeys. Turkeys! That’s right, I have an incubator full of chicken eggs, and now I have an incubator full of turkey eggs. I’m terrified I am going to mess this up, as I have never hatched turkeys, but I’ll write more about that later.

Mainly, I have to tell you about the brood box. Ron is a person who, if he is going to do something, it is going to be magnificent. You should see the grape arbor he built last year. A tornado could come through here, and that thing will stand. It’s also beautiful because he also has to make things beautiful. It’s the poet in him, I think. The brood box is a masterpiece, and it’s giant. I think, if I can get the eggs to hatch, the babies will do well there.

Ron has also planted some seeds, so it’s all upon us. It’s the transition time, and there is so much to do. It’s a bad time to get sick for sure, but I am thankful to be getting better.

I also have one more little side note that I thought would surely make you smile.

I wrote before about how I try to bring different treats every night for dinner to our rescued deer mouse, Jeremiah, and his friend and roommate, Cynthia. Well, lately, Jeremiah doesn’t want anything different. He only wants pecans. I know he’s stashing them though, so last night, I told him there would be no pecans. I made homemade popcorn because it’s Cynthia’s favorite. Jeremiah likes it too, but he was sad because there were no pecans. I started with the popcorn, and he took it at first but then dropped it. He looked back at me. I had some fresh blueberries, so I gave him a blueberry next. It’s from the grocery store, so he only eats those when there’s nothing better, I guess, so he wouldn’t even take that.

“That’s all there is tonight,” I told him. He looked around at my hands, and I went on about my business of trying to pet Cynthia. Jeremiah gets the “zoomies” at night, so there’s no catching him to pet him.

Anyway, I talked to Cynthia a bit and then looked over to see that Jeremiah had a pecan in his mouth. I knew he had a stash! I guess he was saving them in case I failed to show up with them at some point. He is well prepared I guess.

I hope we are all as good at preparing as Jeremiah. It seems like an important skill to have right now.

In Memory of a Mean Girl

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Warning: This post discusses the death of an animal.

If you follow my blog, you know that after we rehabilitated Luna’s broken leg this winter, we had a hard time re-integrating her with the flock because she was being abused to the point of having a broken bill. Luna spent another six weeks or so in the house as we healed her bill, and when we were able to finally move her back outside, we had to take our duck bully, Carmelita, also known as “mean girl,” and isolate her for a week to allow Luna time to adjust to the flock without being being abused.

This was Carmelita way back in 2019 when she was just in her second year here on the farm. She was always our biggest duck and was so beautiful. It was only in the last couple of years that she became so mean. I think she got grumpy with age.

I was angry with our mean girl. I did start to feel terrible for her after having to be isolated for a week, but the plan worked. Carmelita quit bullying Luna for the most part, and harmony was restored to the flock. Still, I am ashamed to admit, during the middle of all this process, we noticed one of our ducks was laying an abnormal egg. I knew something was wrong with someone, and at six years of age, I figured we would lose one of our ducks within the year. It would be our first loss. We have kept all of those hens safe all of these years, but loss always comes. I said out loud, “I hope it’s mean girl.”

I wish I had not said those words.

The night before I had to leave our farm and fly to Oklahoma because my little brother is so ill, I went out to give the ducks their peas, and only six ducks came. With Ferdinand, our male, we should have seven ducks, so I went looking. It was pouring rain, and I searched and searched and couldn’t find her. I realized it was our mean girl who was missing.

The night before, she had been slow to come to the peas, but she did come. She ate peas and went to bed like normal, so I didn’t think anything was really wrong. I just thought she was maybe busy hunting bugs and didn’t come to the peas. Still, on this night, I knew things were bad because I couldn’t find her anywhere. The peas were long finished, and everyone else was going to bed. Something was definitely wrong.

After about half an hour, it stopped raining, and I could see a little better. When I shined my flashlight behind the woodpile in the back of the fenced area, I could see her. When I went to her, she just came to me, so I knew things were serious. At first, in the dark, I thought she had a broken egg stuck in her vent, but I had to bring her inside to get a better look.

What I saw was devastating. Her vent had prolapsed, and the tissue was damaged, like she had drug it across the wood of the woodpile or something along those lines. There is a slim chance you can heal a prolapsed vent, but with this kind of damage, I knew we were at the end.

I researched to see the best way to cull a duck. I had always heard to use the broomstick method, but I read as I was researching that the broomstick method only works for chickens, that it can lead to suffering in a duck because their necks are stronger. I could tell she was in pain. I went to Ron.

It was so late into the evening, but I am so thankful to report that Ron didn’t hesitate. He got dressed and went to get his tools. After years of research and talking to both a vet and scientist, the best way to cull a chicken is with a clean cut with a hatchet, and Ron is masterful at it. He says, when he has to cull, it’s like the universe guides his hand to make it quick and clean. I needed him to end our mean girl’s suffering.

While he got everything ready, I sat with our girl in the bathroom, saying goodbye to her. I apologized for having to isolate her that week some months ago. I knew it was hard on her. I touched her and leaned into her, and she leaned right back. She had some tremble but not much, she seemed so ready. I wish I had found her sooner. She must have been suffering for at least a couple of hours.

Death had been very much on my mind anyway due to circumstances with my brother, and I thought so much about the ends we all come to as I sat with Carmelita. There she was–the biggest duck, the boss of the flock, the duck who had bullied Luna until Luna could have died–only now she was fragile, tired, worn, ready. Humbled by the reality that humbles all of us I suppose–even the bullies among us–and my heart ached for her. I told her over and over I loved her. I reminded her of all the good times when she was a baby and lived in the house, of all the peas, of the rain, the bugs, the duck games. I swear she understood it.

When Ron came to get her, I asked him if he needed help, as he had never culled a duck, but he said no. He wasn’t gone long.

When he came back in the house, he said it was the easiest cull he had ever done. He said he probably didn’t even have to use the tiny rope to hold her head, though he did just in case. He said she laid her head down voluntarily and was ready. He said he felt her acknowledge what had to be done. He said he prayed for her to have a good journey.

And just like that, she was gone.

I am going to miss that duck, but the next day, when I let the flock out in the morning, they didn’t skip a beat. In fact, there was maybe a little more peace in the flock. Our mean girl was gone, and life goes on.

Life on the farm goes on, but I have thought about her every day and the life lessons I learned from her that night as we sat together in her last moments.

What a profound thing all of this is.

The Night Before

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Tonight, we are expecting another big storm, another nor’easter, and I think we are ready. There is gas for the generator; Ron cleaned the chicken coop since the poor chickens will likely be confined to the coop all day; and I made enough homemade pizza to last three days.

I am not really ready mentally though. I feel especially worn of winter this year, and I worry about the poor chickens. It’s been a back and forth spring for sure with quite a few storms. The chickens get some freedom, and then they lose it. They get some freedom, and then they lose it. I noticed during the last nor’easter that tempers were flaring. In their older age, Bertha and Cora are pretty grumpy.

But I wanted to tell a quick story about Luna.

Luna is living her best life in the mud.

I have been making sure I touch her every night during peas because I don’t want her to forget about me. When Anna Sophia was in the house for a couple of months, we were best good friends, and a few weeks after she moved back with her people, it was like she forgot all about me. The only thing I notice is that she is almost always the last one in the duck house after playing the duck game after peas, but that’s all I get. She went back to her wild and free self. I don’t want that to happen to Luna–at least not all the way.

Luna is certainly living it up as her wild and free self. Ducks love mud season more than life itself it seems, and Luna, who was so clean and neat in the house is wild and dirty every day. She’s the dirtiest one.

Tonight, I got a sad surprise because, when she was eating her duck peas, she wouldn’t let me touch her! I tried twice, and she moved away from me. I stood above the ducks while they ate and watched the wind blow through the trees, signaling what is to come tonight.

I was thinking to myself, “This is how it goes. You love things and then you have to let them go.”

But, then, when we were playing the duck game, I noticed it was Luna who was the last one to go into the duck house instead of Anna Sophia, so I decided to see if I could pick her up. She let me. She looked a little concerned at first, so I said, in my sweetest sing-song voice, “Luna baby,” And the look in her eyes changed. I could see she remembered me still.

I leaned my head in and she leaned her head in, and we just stood there, leaning in for a minute. She rubbed her head on my cheek just like she used to do, and I was so grateful.

I sat her down in the duck house and told her I loved her. She went back with her people.

I miss Luna–and other updates

~ Crystal Sands ~ 3 Comments

Tomorrow will mark the two week anniversary of Luna returning to the flock. We had to keep the bully duck separated for a week, but Mean Girl has now returned to the flock as well. Our plan worked, and Mean Girl is no longer Mean Girl and is now just Carmelita again. Luna is getting along very well, though, I swear, in all of the snow and ice here yesterday, I think she looked at me with a certain kind of longing for her warm fire and Back cello suites.

Still, she is doing very well overall. The other ducks will not let me touch them unless they need some kind of help, but every night, when I deliver the bowl of peas at bedtime, I just touch Luna all over her little feathers and tell her I love her so much. She lets me. And that’s the extent of our relationship now. I can’t stop missing her, and I am definitely changed for the better by my experience with her. This summer, I’m going to make our son play some Bach on his cello outside on the deck where she can hear. I want to see if she remembers.

In other news, the ducks and chickens are laying in full force. I have been too worn out to try to sell eggs, even to most of our regular customers, so I think right now we have about 10 dozen eggs in the house–and that’s with our son eating many, many eggs every day. He loves fresh eggs. It’s a good thing he lives on a chicken farm.

Look at these beautiful duck eggs. That striped one is the little miracle Luna left for us the last night she was in the house. I did pretty well keeping her out of the light, and she only laid an egg about twice per week. I guess her “ink” was doing funny things. What a treasure!

We have had some terrible weather the last couple of days. Everything was all spring like, and I was ready for it. Then, we got snow and then more snow and wind and rain and ice and then some more snow. Ron and I spent all of yesterday shoveling trying to keep the ducks comfortable and trying to stay ahead of the ice. We did pretty well overall, but still, this morning, I had to use warm water to open the doors on the chicken coop and shed with the straw.

I told Ron this morning that I had never seen anything quite like this morning, but then I realized I remember saying that last year when we had the -50 degrees with the wind chill and that this is what climate change is all about–a whole bunch of “I have never seen anything like this before.”

Speaking of climate change, I actually went back to really writing this week. I have been in a drought for a long time. I have much to write in the blog, but I spent last week working on an article about climate change in Maine that will be published next month. The article was interesting to research, and I learned so much. It also felt good to be back to work in that way. When I was really struggling with COVID, I made a bunch of deals with myself and the universe that, if I could just get better, I was going to focus my energy on things I love much more. I am happy to be back to writing.

I sure miss Luna though.

Ruby showed up, like there was no big deal.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Friends, I just had to write this morning to update you on Ruby and Luna. First of all, Ruby showed up this morning. She appeared from under the chicken house acting like there was no problem at all. She must have been chilly out there, but she’s just fine this morning. I am so thankful for that chicken and also sometimes worn of her antics. She just can’t seem to be like everyone else though, and I guess you can’t blame her for that.

Also, Luna was just fine last night for her first night in the duck house. Of course, our bully is still being separated, but it’s a great start for Luna. Hopefully, a week of separation will help Mean Girl (her real name is Carmelita, but I think she’s just going to be Mean Girl for now on) find her inner kindness. Let’s hope!

Though I miss Luna, one perk is that I now seem to have time to write. Luna was a lot of work these three months. It was worth it to get to know her on such a deep level, but I am kind of looking forward to getting back to writing.