My adrenaline is pumping, and I’ve got a fresh, red, cat-like scratch wrapped around my wrist. My hair is damp, and my hands smell like dish soap. So, what have I been up to? Well, what else could it be at 9:18 pm on a Friday night other than chasing three Muscovy female ducks, grabbing them, squeezing them against my body, and thrusting them into the hinged-door of their A-framed coop? With their new owner arriving in the morning and my concern that they’d do what they always do – fly about the yard and never allow themselves to be caught – I figured tonight was the only opportunity.
I left two drakes and the brown-clipped wing female outside in the enclosure, thinking that the two males would stick close to their housed lady friends. I knew it was going to be stressful, and it certainly was. I don’t enjoy hearing their shrill squawks at being captured. For ducks that are closer in size to geese, they are surprisingly strong!
“When we get up, lol” was the response I received from the duck’s new owner when I texted him asking what time he planned to get them. Uh, okay. Is that 6 a.m. or noon?
During a co-op board game Dave and I were playing, a car suddenly whipped into the driveway. I stiffened immediately, the threat of a vehicle approaching at 8:30 pm and seeing someone jumping out with a ready light had me instinctively reaching for a pretend golf club. Dave’s calm demeanor, and his swift walk past me to open the door, felt bizarrely contrasting as I mentally prepared for a crouched ninja stance. It wasn’t until he held the white package in hand, ripped it open to reveal the Paw Patrol figurines and book for Evelyn’s birthday, and saw the headlights retreating that I felt a sense of satisfaction. My imaginary fight skills had done their job, allowing me to relax.
I don’t feel sad about selling the ducks. Dealing with the wet, muddy, and poopy pen during the winter isn’t a fun activity. Being free from the responsibility of feeding, watering, and bedding them will be a welcome relief. As Dave mentioned, it was nice to have a basket full of duck eggs this summer, especially with chicken egg prices soaring in the store. From eating a double-yoker to hatching two ducklings this summer, it’s been a fun and wild journey. One was killed by a dog, two likely by coyotes, and we deduced that two spots in the field with white feathers were from an eagle attack. These experiences have toughened this once-doting and loving animal protector with a survival-of-the-fittest backbone. Like I told Dave, when the one brown lady didn’t return, I knew I wouldn’t care like that again. It was just too hard.
So, that’s that. A dream come true has come to an end. For now. I will consider raising a more domestic breed of duck in the future, perhaps a Peking. But that won’t be for a couple of years, at least.
Another 5-star review for our cabin on Airbnb puts us just one review away from my dream of becoming a Superhost. I believe we need to maintain a 4.8-star rating, have 10 stays, a 100% response rate, and something else I’m forgetting. We’re at 9 stays, so hopefully, after the one next week, that bucket list item can be checked off. Why do I care so much? I don’t know, I guess because it’s something to do.
But the toilet’s sagging, as our cleaner sent pictures of a dip that’s not visible in the photos. We’ll need to see it in person. I’m disappointed because any profit, albeit small, will likely be used to fix that issue.
And, since I’m in a “woe is me-ing” mindset, my new Toyota Corolla rental goes back tomorrow, so we’ll be giving the one-car household a trial run. Here’s something funny – while looking into leasing a car, I came across a brand-new Chevrolet Corvette. “Oh my gosh!” I told Dave, “It’s only $109 a day!” Dave’s laughter quickly made me realize my error – I had mixed up day and month, so my dream of a brand new sports car was crushed like grapes in a barrel at harvest time.
Well, that’s it for now. I’m going to watch the second half of the second Knives Out movie.
Take care, Jaclynn.
Going On 40 