the Quack Pack

If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve already met them. But I thought it was fitting for the world wide web to finally meet Larissa, Darryl, his other brother Darryl, and Derp.

I didn’t exactly plan on adding ducks to the lineup, but one thing led to another (as things tend to do around here), and suddenly there was a splashy new crew paddling around the farm.

But I’m going to blame this one on the algorithm, because it served me up the dinosaur bird during the pandemic (that would be the shoebill stork, which you should absolutely google, btw) and I’ve been mildly obsessed with birds ever since.

My neighbor across the street in Oregon, Briana, has a gaggle of ducks which I love listening to on my morning pasture rounds. Their quacking, in particular, is the best part because it sounds like a monotone (but super cute) sarcastic laugh.

I was over once getting or borrowing something and we got to talking — and you know how that goes. She caught me in early spring, when I was fully recharged, ready for the season, filled with energy and possibility and said yes when she offered me some eggs to incubate.

I’m not going to bore you with the details of that failed attempt, but I sincerely tip my feathers to mother nature. How birds incubate/sit on eggs for 28 days straight in spring (when we still get wild temps) keeping those eggs at 102 degrees F, to hatch out a bird, well that’s just beyond me.

I got 8 days in, using alpaca fiber, a heating pad and a heat lamp and all I got was sulfur stench. Briana had a friend incubate another round of them in a proper set up, and no joke, the day after our alpaca shearing, I came home with a box of ducklings!

I was truly unprepared for the ducks, and honestly, that has probably been the best part. I’ve come to realize that I do everything for the farm business with strategy and intention, that I often overlook doing things just for me and just for fun.

And similar to my sheepies (oh yeah, I got 2 more of those this spring, too), these birds were just for me, just for joy. And they’ve been that and more.

They’re a mix of personalities — curious, bossy, and perpetually damp — and I can’t tell if they think I work for them or if they’re just humoring me.

While the flower beds are tucked in and the alpacas are working their way through hay, the ducks have taken on the unofficial role of “entertainment committee.”

They’re fully free range within the confines of the farm. Although they didn’t spend much time in the garden at all this season, they’ve now discovered it’s full of tasty worms, bugs, and still sprouting with tasty green stuff even in November. Even munching on my pea and oat cover crop.

Dally the greyhound, with a kill coat counting 57 mole deaths, has been appropriately trained that these birds are off limits. Honestly, that wasn’t even hard either.

In fact, on two occasions, Larissa has —totally unprovoked— waddled over and chomped Dally’s lil tenderloins. It was a sad, tragic and utterly adorable sight watching Dally be so aghast. She was completely unharmed, no blood was drawn, but the ego was very much damaged.

She doesn’t even so much as bark at them, although they squabble at her a lot, yet they also seem to follow her like a puppy at times. What can I say, we’re all a little confused and figuring it out day by day. And it’s genuinely the best thing ever.

The ducks waddle with purpose, chatter constantly, and seem personally offended anytime I enter their bubble unannounced, even if I’m coming with a fresh bowl of peas or a watermelon.

Watching them cruise around the farm has become my new favorite off-season hobby. Sometimes I’ll be engrossed in something mundane, bent over pulling a weed or picking up trash, and I turn around to see them waddling over. They make me stop and be present (I know, I know, but seriously). These birds just make life so joyful.

And now that it’s cold and the house is buttoned up, it’s been an extra delight that I’m able to hear them having a chat under the kitchen window or around the porch - and of course I’m creating little Soap Opera scenarios.

Do I know how I’m going to keep them cozy during the winter? Not exactly.

Or what amount of water they really need to swim in and how to keep it thawed and what vessel that’ll use? Not at all.

And I’m quite excited at the prospect of finding it out alongside them. There’s just something about being a beginner again. And there’s most definitely something about ducks. Or as I call em, MY DUCKIE BIRDS.