Ducks don't just say "Quack!"

This missive diverges from the subjective Saga coming from the duck point of view.  This essay is definitely an objective human point of view.

I find a rich array of duck sounds, and have learned to talk a bit of Duck language. Females not only quack and males growl, but females also whimper, chirp, moan with pleasure, have a wide variety of quack tones, and body language adds to the meanings. A duck mother has a whole array of different whimpers that she uses to communicate with her clutch of ducklings. When soliciting sex, a female will approach a drake with her head tucked down to the left, bobbing over her shoulder, uttering a cadenced, "Uk, uk, uk, uk..." sound, and shifting from foot to foot.

2 of my drakes have taken to whistling after they successfully mount a female. I wouldn't describe the whistle as a "cat call," the whip-whew sound. No. A duck whistle is more like you would exclaim "Wow!" It sounds like "Whe-e-e-e-w!"

They also use their wings like arms. Ancient Tiny, who teaches the new generations the history and folklore of the flock, uses the tips of her wings like a centenarian with a walker. A duck mother uses her wings to push the ducklings back to where she can best care for or defend them. One time, I introduced my favorite, also current Alpha among ducks, to my new gosling. In the blink of an eye, he whupped upside her head twice with his powerful wing, and she died a few hours later of neurological damage.

Some people can hear meaning in the duck sounds. Most only hear, "Quack, quack, quack!" I appreciate when guests hear the different tones in the quacks, and come running when it sounds urgent. If one duck is in trouble, or if a predator enters the yard, the tone is much different. Now that I think of it, the actor who voiced Donald Duck may have listened to real ducks more than I expected.

A new era for Killjoy Numbskull

Killjoy Numbskull used to enjoy spending his days and nights picking on his best friend, Nudnick.  They loved to fight and harass all the other residents of the farmyard.  They were bigger, stronger, faster, with a larger wingspan, more beautiful feathers, and the most accurate pecking ability of all the birds. 

Killjoy and Nudnick had a horn growing out of the crown of their heads like a unicorn, called a "helmet."They enjoyed wearing whiteface and blue eye shadow, and kept their neck and crown feathers in a helter-skelter Goth array.  They looked like pompous fools and enjoyed bullying each other and everyone else around. 

One night, there was a raccoon slinking around on the elevated porch.  It came very close to where Killjoy and Nudnick sat on the highest perch in their huge cage.  The raccoon reached through the wire to try to grab one of them.  Nudnick was terrified and dropped to the ground to hide behind the door.  Although the door was solid on one side, the other raccoon was easily able to reach through the wire beside the wooden door and yank poor Numbskull's head out through the wire up to the shoulders.  Killjoy was traumatized by the experience. 

After a few weeks, Killjoy started getting lonely.  There was no one to contend with, no one to pick on, and he didn't get much fun out of harassment anymore.  He wanted to hang with the flock rather than make them all run away in every direction.  He was longing to be one of the crowd. 

Meanwhile, the 6 hens have never seen a rooster.  Unlike the ducks, when they are in the mood for love, they run over to the most powerful being in the farmyard and present themselves.  Lately, Killjoy has been the most powerful in the farmyard.  And now that he is less about attacking for fun and more about longing for companionship, he has been taking up the invitation of the hens.  Now that he needs companionship, he is serving in the role of alpha male for the hens. 

The youngest, and certainly the fattest of the hens, is the Black Giant.  She was raised to be best friends with our last year's hatchling drake, Nicodemus.  He was seriously abused by his dad and big brother, and took it out on his girlfriend, the Black Giant.  She grew up being abused.  Not only was she the bottom of the pecking order for being the youngest, but also she was abused by a drake.  Now she is a bedraggled mess.  Nicodemus is long gone.  She has been infected with western poultry mites, and parts of her skin are plucked clean and ready for the soup pot.  In spite of diatomaceous earth, Neem oil, vinegar, ammonia, and tobacco tea, the problem remains.  Some other hens are mildly affected. 

Black giant has been sporting a tailor-made back apron to protect her bloody back from pecking attacks of the others.  She may also be rubbing herself bloody on her night time perch.  She is too fat to fly up to the high perch, so she has made a bedroom in one of the nest boxes where she perches at night.  Now that Killjoy Numbskull has toned down his sadism, he sees Black Giant as his perfect next companion, and has been courting her.  Although she doesn't mind so much being pecked, she is still batshit terrified of Killjoy.  He is too stupid to realize the effect he has on others in his foppish costume and whorehouse makeup. 

Now Killjoy Numbskull has decided to give up his spacious digs and move in with the hens in the hen house.  They all hate him.  Roosters tend to be nasty pieces of work, so how much worse could a French Guinea be?  Maybe Killjoy will save the day and do his job to combat the Western Poultry Mites? He certainly makes cheerful and happy sounds when he is with the hens in the hen house. 

Saraswati the Duck is growing old

The old Barred Plymouth Rock hen is so old, she can barely leap onto the hen house ramp. She lacks the strength to reach the sleeping perch above. Every day, we expect to find her dead body, and she is high risk to be taken by a predator. 

One of the matriarchs of the duck flock is also suffering from old age, although she is at least a year older than the hen. Maybe ducks have longer lifespans than hens.

Old Barred Rock didn't seem to care much about her eggs, but ducks passionately want to be mothers. Saraswati, the Welsh Harlequin, never had the opportunity to have ducklings. 

Early on, it was predators. The human trapped many of them, but there were always more. Then the human built the Duck House with a removable wall to access cleaning. Every night, she locked the flock in, and we could finally get a good night's sleep.  There was nice clean straw on the floor, and a nice big nest in the corner.  Each one of us took turns laying our egg each night.  Saraswati usually had first dibs on the nest, because she was well respected among the flock.  

One night, a raccoon tore the removable wall off its nails and attacked Lakshmi, Saraswati's twin sister, who was sitting on the nest.  The raccoon beat her to death to steal the half gestated eggs. After that, Saraswati became very sad, and never wanted to sit on her eggs in the Duck House.  

The following year, someone left the gate open, and the drakes wandered across the street to the empty lot to hunt for bugs.  Both drakes got run over, and then none of the eggs for the next 2 years were fertile.  After that, not a single bird dared go out the gate lest they fare a fate like the drakes. 

Then Prince Eric arrived!  Even only a month old, we all knew he was going to be central in our lives.  Once he reached puberty, Saraswati asked to be serviced every day, but the young drake still needed more practice to land his seed correctly.  But then Saraswati's eggs became wierd, fragile or absent shells, and some were pre-rotted the day they were laid.  Now, she lays eggs no more, just when Prince Eric has figured it all out.  A case of bad timing, I guess. 

Now Saraswati feels tired all the time. She will die unfulfilled never having hatched a clutch of ducklings. 

The most wonderful day in Miracle's life

Miracle had spent all night alone in her cage through the rain.  The roof over the cage kept some of the rain out.  The little hamster hut over the hot rock kept her cotton rag dry.  When she heard the other ducks come to bathe, she called out to them to come rescue her.  Over and over, she chirped a call.  She really wanted to be with them.  Miracle could hear her mother's voice.  But they left without her, stuck in her little cage.  By dawn, she began calling for someone to let her out. 

Finally, the human came and opened the door.  Usually, the human would pick Miracle up, but today, the door was flung open.  At first, Miracle just hurried to the far corner of the nursery fold and called out for her mother.  After a while, she wandered over to the pool to have a drink.  The water had the delightful taste of a light touch of duck poop.  She hopped up the ramp and jumped in.  That's what began for Miracle the most wonderful day of her life. 

It lightly rained all day.  Ducks love rain.  Between the warm showers were sunny skies.  Miracle swam most of the day in the pool, sometimes bathing, sometimes preening, sometimes shooting rapidly below the surface,  sometimes just lolling around.  In between, she sunned herself on a cinder block feeling satisfied and sleepy.  She spent the whole day in the warm sun and delightful rain.

Late in the afternoon, Miracle woke up from a nap mighty hungry.  Her scratch bowl was gone!  The last time she saw it was in the terrarium in the kitchen.  She walked over to the porch by the door and started calling for the human to bring her scratch bowl.  Instead of bringing the bowl, the human came to get Miracle.  Something inside her was terrified of the monstrous human, and she escaped!  She really wanted the mighty hand to pick her up but she couldn't control herself.  She ran into her cage and cowered behind the hamster hut.  Cornered, Miracle was captured by the mighty hand. 

The hand placed her in the terrarium in the kitchen, where she indeed found her bowl.  Boy!  Was she hungry!  She gorged herself on grain and sips of water until she slept quietly all through the human's wellness dinner and presentation. Miracle felt lonely when she woke.  She tried to stand up in the terrarium, but it seemed to have shrunk.  She needed to crouch her head down a little in order not to hit the ceiling screen.  She could hear the humans talking somewhere else.  So she made a fuss until someone came.  The human wrapped Miracle in a cotton flannel rag and carried her out to another room where humans were sitting on a long chair covered with cotton cloth.   She squirmed around in her flannel swaddling.  This place looked interesting and she wanted to explore.  The hand spread out the cotton flannel on the cushion and let Miracle out on the couch.  She may be the first duck to sit on a living room couch. 

Finally it was time for bed.  The human carried Miracle out to her cage with the hot rock covered with cotton cloth inside a hamster hut.  She had had a long, marvelous day, and was weary and ready to sleep.  It had certainly been the most wonderful day of her life. 

Miracle's adventure with a gaggle of little humans

Miracle is three weeks old and double in size.  He likes to sit on the hot rock in his cage.  The human put a cotton rag over the rock to make it more comfortable.  Yes, Miracle's life has grown extraordinarily comfortable for a duck. 

After sleeping in the cage all night on the hot rock, enclosed with cardboard to discourage drafts, Miracle wakes up every morning very cold.  He starts to call for help, but no one comes.  He calls louder and louder until the human comes out in bathrobe and slippers, and opens the cage door.  Miracle is ambivalent about the monstrous human.  As frightening as is her size and species, he considers that she still hasn't eaten me.  In fact, she is kind of nice to me.  I really want her to pick me up but she is so scary!  Miracle hovers in the far corner as the giant arm and hand get closer to grab him.  At the last minute, he bolts trying to escape the grasp.  The hand shoots out to subdue and grasp little Miracle, and he is caught at last. 

Chirping with fear, Miracle tries to escape, but the strong hands are already restraining his tiny wings in cotton rag swaddling cloths.  Wrapped like a newborn, the human stuffs Miracle into her shirt.  He has grown accustomed to the sound of her heartbeat and the rise and fall of her chest.  It is comforting and warm to squeeze up into her sleeve or into the side of her neck.  The heavy pulsing of her giant blood vessel lulls Miracle to sleep.  He feels safe in her clothes. 

Every day, the giant human fills a shiny white porcelain basin from a silvery spigot with warm water for Miracle's bath.  This is his favorite time of day.  The human tosses torn up green leaves into the water.  Miracle eats them like a child eating Halloween Candy.  When his sides are ready to burst, Miracle starts his bath. 

The bath always begins with a head dunk followed by a splash.  Dunk, splash, dunk. splash, dunk. splash.  Then balance on one foot while the other vigorously scratches the oil glands on the sides of Miracle's face.  Another dunk and rub, rub, rub the oil all over the feathers.  Dunk, splash, scratch, dunk, splash and rub, over and over, left and right, back and breast, neck and butt.  After every part has been oiled, it is time to preen the feathers.  But Miracle hardly has any feathers.  Save for the few tiny feathers sprouts protruding from his tail, he is covered over with yellow fuzzy down.  Feathers or down, they all get the oil treatment and preening.  After the bath, the human wraps Miracle in a clean, cotton cloth, and stuffs him back into her shirt. 

One day, the human took Miracle into a giant humming thing and we went far away.  Miracle was stuffed into a sock so that only his head could be seen.  The human went walking around a place with lots of smaller humans, who all made sounds when they saw Miracle.  They said, "Aw-w-w-w" and wanted to pet him.  All the kindergarten children sat calmly along the wall in the hallway and petted his head, one by one.  Although it was really scary to be around all those humans, Miracle felt safe in the hands of the usual human, the one that puts him in her chest. 

Every time Miracle felt like pooping, he would squirm around and make a fuss.  The human would put him down into a spigot place, and he would let it all out.  There were often cups and bowls filled with water for a little drink.  Then the human would make the silvery spigot release water, and wash all the baby duck poop down the drain.  Miracle never messed his comfy cotton cloths or the cloths that the human wore. 

After several hours, Miracle was exhausted.  There was no grain to eat at this place.  Miracle got to taste some lovely sweet fruits, but didn't want to eat much of them.  With all the little humans petting him, and the absence of food, Miracle couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.  He lay his head down and fell asleep.  The human put him on her chest inside her shirt, and he fell into a deep sleep.  The next thing he knew, he was home and being expelled from the sock into his nice cage.  What an adventure!

Miracle's unfortunate accident and resuscitation

Unfortunately, it turned out that L'il Survivor was quacking out the death knell of Whitey, whose carcass was found picked clean by a predator.  The human set out a Hav-a-Heart trap to catch the lethal offender.  Soon  L'il Survivor fully fletched her wings and flew away with her daddy, Mr. Alpha Interloper. 

Meanwhile, TanBrow appeared after a long disappearance quacking up a storm in the front garden.  The human rose to see what all the commotion was about and saw TanBrow proudly proclaiming the birth of her seven new ducklings.  All were fuzzy yellow except one which was black.  It wasn't long before a scrawny calico cat ate one of the ducklings.  And then there were six. 

The human caught four ducklings and put them in a cage with fresh fodder, a bowl of water and another of baby scratch.  Two ducklings were too fast and ran through the fence onto the next block.  By the time the human returned from searching the next block and the adjoining empty field, the ducklings had made their way back to the nest.  With the help of a young friend, the last two were caught and placed safely into the cage with their siblings.

The human wanted to catch TanBrow and keep her with her babies.  But TanBrow had other plans.  She had become a master of escape, which attests to her survival to this day.  TanBrow can either fly over low fences, lift the poultry netting up and slip under it, throw her weight against the fence until the staples fall out, our leap onto the top and crush the fencing until it is low enough to fly over.  She can squeeze through larger holes in the fence and remember exactly where the larger holes are located.  When all else fails, she can lay low in silence, and camouflage herself into the underbrush.  TanBrow held escape as a higher priority than mothering her baby ducklings.

Every morning, the human let the ducklings out of the cage to peck and scratch in the nursery fold.  The human build a ramp of stone and mud up to the bank of the pond, and kept the pond filled to the top to facilitate the ducklings' exit.  The six siblings all rushed in a crowd this way and that, chirping now for their mother, and now for for some juicy insects.  Every day they seemed to grow ten percent bigger.  There was no specific leader of the group.  If one turned to go another way, they all turned to go with him.  They cuddled together for warmth and companionship.  Sometimes they even walked over each other at rest.  They had a good life.  The only thing lacking was the attention of their mother.

The seasons were changing and hot weather turned rapidly into cold.  The human put an electrically warmed rock into their cage and closed the cage in at night with cardboard and empty feed bags.  The ducklings really liked the warm rock.  That corner soon became the most frequented part of the cage.  Every night when the human drove them all back into the cage, they complied happily to go back to the warm rock.

About a week after their birth, the human left to go to a meeting.  The ducklings all decided to go for a swim.  The water was a lot colder than they had expected.  The cold water robbed them of their energy.  They were unable to leap our of the water onto the bank.  They chirped frantically for help but no one came, not their mother nor any human.  One by one, they gave up the ghost, legs blue, body temperature down, too cold to breathe. 

The human came home from the meeting to see lifeless ducklings floating in the pool.  She ran for rags and lifted the six freezing ducklings out of the icy water to dry them off.  She began CPR on the ducklings, quickly changing wet rags to dry ones and placing the swaddled ducklings on the warm rock.  One seemed to move and look at the human..  This one was wrapped and placed inside the human's clothing right over her heart.  The human felt this one making tiny movements in her clothes as she pumped away on the chests of the other five ducklings blowing little puffs of air into their nostrils.  Again and again the human changed their damp rags and continued chest percussion.  Their limp bodies and half-closed eyes never moved again.  The human was mortified. 

The one in her chest was starting to quietly chirp.  It was so weak, it was unable to stand up.  After a while in her shirt, and another while on the hot rock, the one survivor could barely hold up its head.  After some intensive care, the little yellow duckling was able to wiggle out of the swaddling cloths and stand up and chirp.  Considering the miracle of its resuscitation, this duck got named, Miracle. 

The Ducklings Grow Fast

The downy little brown ducklings grew longer and taller. By 4 weeks old, they began to grow beautiful, shiny feathers. The three male chicks, Dooghie, Danny and Drake, grew metallic dark green feathers on their heads. A funny white ring around their necks separated the green neck feathers from the purplish-brown chest feathers. The four female ducklings were spotted white and buff-color, dull compared to their brothers’ shimmering plumage. Ava, Ella, Ana and Ariel, had stripes across their eyes as if they were wearing makeup. The chicks had grown so big, they were almost as tall as their mom. Even as big as they had all grown, they still chirped tiny little chirps, and their silly little wing sprouts still had no feathers.

Drake was becoming a big bully. He was the swiftest of all the ducklings to find worms and bugs which made him grow bigger faster. Now that he was the biggest of the clutch, he really knew how to throw his weight around! He pushed the other ducklings away from their worms and quarreled with them over who gets to eat it. Daily, Quackers had to break up fights between Drake and the four girls. Ariel was the most defiant against her bully brother. She didn’t like being pushed around by a bully, even if it was her brother. She liked Dooghie much better. Dooghie peacefully snuffled for worms with the flock without stealing everyone elses food.

Drake got bossier and bossier. In a few more weeks, the ducklings were almost as big as their mother. The feathers on their wings grew as if overnight, and their little chirps were breaking into moderate quacks. Drake even tried to boss his mom around. Boy! Did she give him a scolding!!! She was still bigger than her growing son, and she was going to make sure that he knew it! She nipped his heels and shoulder and quacked out a warning. Drake was put in his place, but not for long. Drake felt squeezed by the loveley garden. It had a lot of nice snails and cracked corn, but felt too small for an ambitious young duck. Drake had a feeling there was more to see in the world than some kindly humans, a big house and bug-infested garden. He dreamed to someday see the world. He kept his secret longings to himself.