Duck, Duck, Goose!

I live on a small stock farm where we raise chickens, ducks and geese. These are some of the most joyful creatures on the planet, full of themselves and full of life. We discovered early on that our domesticated ducks will seldom turn broody, but the chickens seldom stop doing so. As a result, if we wanted new ducklings we would have to “loan” some eggs to the chickens. We also discovered that chickens can raise ducks but ducks cannot raise chickens. A duck has big, flat feet and the ducklings will flatten out under those clumsy feet, squeak in a panic, and bounce right back. Little chicks on the other hand, don’t bounce.

So the “surrogate” Moms get the job of raising the little ducklings and take no notice whatsoever of the differences of their curious offspring. We found, however, that the I-don’t-care-what-you-look-like-I-still-love-you theory of Motherhood, does not work with Mother Geese and ducklings.

We tried that once, giving two goslings and two ducklings to a goose to raise. She took one look, adopted the two goslings, and evicted their little buddies, the ducklings. Try as they might, those ducklings could not get into her good graces, and Geese usually have very few of those anyway. But they survived, having just each other for a family unit. They are still, to this day, family.

We have a duckling right now that is being raised by two bantam chickens. Yes,–two of them. They had an egg to sit on each, but the one egg went bad so they are sharing the responsibility of raising a young fawn and white top-knot Indian Runner. Do they think their child is weird looking because she has a flat, round bill and a little white ball of fluff on top of her head? No. To them, she is the most beautiful little chicken ever hatched.

Ah, that Mother love! And leave us not forget about Dad….Of course, you could argue that I’m talking about the Papa drake whose genes are popping inside that little duckling, but I’m not. I’m talking about Snowflake, our White Silkie rooster, who spends the whole day strutting around his domain, gazing proudly at all the little balls of white fluff that are his own natural offspring. He reserves that same “Daddy” look for the little duck too. You should hear him purr with contentment. Yes, chickens do purr.

Farm life is a good life, the ultimate healthy rush of wonder, joy, and purring contentment. City living can’t even touch it, and the suburbs are nothing compared to the wide open spaces, the quacks, the chirps, the squawks, and that strange sound that geese make that can only be described as a three-way cross between an elephant, a cow, and an air horn.

And they all live together, birds of a feather, sort of. Occasionally they fight, occasionally they kiss like lovers being oh so romantic. Occasionally they look at us as if we were purple aliens from Jupiter. But always they love life, and they love us, and they love each other. They communicate as much to us every day. Yes, life is good down on the farm, and yes, sometimes the ducks do goose the geese.