Duck Sex

When we started adding critters to our farm, ducks were not on our radar.

Our zoo started with a pony. 

A pony that our daughter got for her Make-A-Wish in 2011. 

And since a pony shouldn't live alone, we acquired two goats to be her companions. 

The goats arrived before the pony did. 

And when that pony showed up in the barn the goats were terrified of her!

They are all besties now. 

Then we thought about getting some barn cats. 

So we got four kittens who are now cats.

Cats who spend a lot of time in our house. 

Go figure. 

We've always had a dog or two. 

We are down to one dog at the moment.

Chickens just made sense to us. 

We like to eat eggs and chickens lay eggs. 

So, we bought eight chicks from our local farm store.  

We perused the big metal tubs at the back of the farm store, gazing down at all of the chirpy little fluffy baby chickens. 

We chose our chicks and went home with them in a little cardboard box that Zoe held on her lap. 

They lived in our house for a bit until they were old enough to have grown some feathers. 

They now live in our barn in a fabulous chicken coop my dad built for them. 

We have five chickens currently. 

One chicken drowned in our water trough. 

One was eaten by some creature that was hiding in a bush. 

And one turned out to be a mean ol' rooster. 

He lost his head. 

When you get chicks from anywhere, there's never a 100% guarantee on which sex they are. 

We wanted all hens, but none of the chicks were wearing a pink sweater the day we were at the chick store. 

We ended up with seven hens and one rooster. 

Hens who lay lots of eggs. 

Which is what we wanted all along. 

We eat scrambled eggs.

Fried eggs. 

Hard boiled eggs. 

Frittatas. 

I make meringue desserts. 

We love eggs!

We spend a lot of time at the feed store since we have these farm critters.

Buying chicken feed and horse treats. 

Buckets for water and bags of dog food. 

Salt licks and hoof picks. 

And ducks. 

We bought ducks.

Because everytime we were at the feed store they were there. 

Looking all cute in their duckling down and with those big ol' duckie eyes. 

And we didn't need ducks. 

Not like we thought we needed chickens. 

Well, ducks do lay eggs, right?

So, more eggs!

Maybe...

Now I don't have the best track record when it comes to knowing the sex of a mammal. 

Most of you know the story of Gigi. 

We didn't get that sexing story right at all!

And the chickens. 

One boy in the mix. 

We didn't want a boy chicken!

And when you buy ducks you aren't sure what you're getting either. 

I ordered four runner ducks from the farm store. 

They don't ask you to check a box stating "male or female" duck. 

You just get a duck. 

And it seems out of our four runner ducks we have...

are you ready for this?

ready?

...three male ducks. 

WTH!

I think Chad's first words upon hearing my declaration of sex were "well, they're completely useless!"

Sigh. 

Three boys to one girl. 

Ugh. 

Poor Daffy.  

Single white female. 

She has her own male harem. 

You may now be screaming at me "but you'll have lots of ducklings!"

Maybe. 

But probably not. 

From everything I've read about runner ducks, they are not good nesters.

They are not, as we in the poultry world say, broody birds. 

Broody birds will sit on eggs in a nest. 

Runner ducks ain't sitters. 

They are runners. 

It's in their name. 

So, we would probably have to incubate eggs if Daffy were to lay fertilized eggs in her future. 

And that's not gonna happen!

We also have two Khaki Campbell ducks.

 

We have our fingers, toes, and eyes crossed that they are females. 

We currently have no idea if they are.

How can I tell the others are indeed males?

A curly tail feather. 

Huh?

You read that right, male ducks (or drakes as they are referred to in the duck world) have a curly tail feather. 

I have no idea why. 

It's weird. 

But true. 

And we have three ducks who are bigger, have a grovely quack (another sign of manhood in a duck), and who each have developed a curly tail feather. 

Let's hope the sides even out with the brown ducks. 

Time and a curly tail (or not) will tell. 

The Menagerie Grows

Before we got Zoe's pony, I read up on the subject of horsery. 

I learned about the frog in the foot, growing a good pasture, and wood chewing. 

Before we got goats, I borrowed books from the library to tell me everything from how to trim their hooves to what diseases they could get. 

Chickens are coming?

I bought books telling me how to tell what color eggs my chickens would lay and how they would roost when dusk came.

So, when we decided to get some ducks I did my research once again. 

Why would we get ducks, you may be asking?

Why in the hell not, I'll respond.

I think getting farm animals is kind of like having children. 

Once you have a few, what's a few more!

You're already used to the smell and the shoveling involved. 

Kids and farm animals are similar like that. 

Adding to the menagerie has been fun. 

So, we ordered some ducks from the feed store and decided that we would get Indian Runner Ducks. 

Runners are supposed to be good insect eaters. 

I like that. 

Runner ducks are ducks that stand upright when they walk. 

They are sometimes called penguin ducks or wine bottle ducks. 

I just call them cute. 

And soon, I would be calling them dumb.

 

We brought them home from the feed store and, as we did with the chickens when they were newly born, put them in the kitchen in a plastic tub with a heat lamp and food and water. 

These things seemed to grow 3 inches a night!

We had to put a dab of nail polish on their heads to tell them apart. 

Charlie had blue. 

Monty had orange. 

Mandy was pink and Daffy didn't get any polish because she was shorter than the others. 

They quickly outgrew the plastic tub and since they didn't yet have feathers, we couldn't put them in the cold barn yet. 

So, we moved them to our bathtub. 

Our ONLY bathtub. 

Where they continued to grow 3 inches a night. 

And shit enormous amounts of duck poo. 

In the tub. 

On the dining room floor. 

On each other. 

In their water bowl. 

Chad was in the process of making them a duck house. 

A wooden duck house would be placed in the barn right next to the chicken coop. 

With a flip top lid and a window and cute door that looks like it came from a castle. 

And he was instructed to "GET THAT HOUSE DONE STAT!"

I was about to go bonky with the poo everywhere. 

And the bathtub needed to be returned to the people. 

He got it done in lickety-split time and we moved the crazy quacking foursome out to the barn. 

With their heat lamp and mess moved to the building behind the house, I felt my sanity returning. 

But then the runner ducks, who have lived with us since they were two days old, began to run from us as if we were duck killers. 

We would go out to the barn to feed them and they would run, in a straight line and as a group, away from us. 

Falling over each other. 

Running into fences and doors to get away from us. 

As if we were Jason from the Friday the 13th movies. 

Had they seen that movie?

How could they have seen that movie?!

If we took a step to the left, they would run in fear to the right. 

If we stepped to the right, fear running to the left. 

Our feelings were hurt. 

And then I remembered from my duck books that runner ducks are an excitable breed. 

Is this fear running what the text was referring to as easily excitable?

I guess so. 

Duck killer running mode = normal Indian runner duck mentality. 

Good grief. 

What had we gotten ourselves into?

I tried reassuring the husband that instead of being annoyed with the ducks and their fear running, that we should instead look at them in a comical manner.  They are a unit of four and will follow one another off of a cliff. 

Let's keep them away from cliffs. 

A few weeks ago we were at the farm store picking up some vegetable and herb plants for the garden. 

Of course we had to venture to the rear of the store where the chicks and ducklings are kept during the spring buying season. 

The girls and I found the sale bin.

And everyone knows I'm a sucker for a sale. 

I said "oh look, the ducklings in this big tub are only $2 each."

Which was a deal to me, as I had paid a whole $5 each for those dumbo runner ducks. 

"Step away from the tub!" my husband declared. 

So we did. 

Until we had gotten to the lawn seed that was six aisles over. 

And he saw me stopping my cart. 

And he knew I didn't want any lawn seed. 

"No, no, no" he sputtered. 

But the kids and I were peering back into the duck sale bin before he had expelled his third no. 

"But they're on sale!"

I had the girls pick out two Khaki Campbell ducklings. 

They are brown birds with a blueish bill. 

And not as excitable as runner ducks. 

My husband had conceded his fight against more ducklings the minute he saw the girls picking their choices from the bin. 

"What's two more?" I asked. 

"What's two more" he sighed...