Winter is a cruel time on the farm. We have had frozen duck ponds, and heat lamps on the rabbits every night. We lost our sweet mother duck Norman the weekend after Thanksgiving. It has been a particularly brutal winter for predators. The coop that was built for our chickens years ago is in need of repair. The chickens have never really used it. They roost on top of it or on the rabbit hutches. It is a cute sight to see. The ducks have never used the coop, so we effectively have a big empty wooden box in our backyard. We have always considered the risk of predators real, but have never lost so many animals as we have this year. With money being tight and the weather being either bone chilling or completely wet we decided to winterize and rebuild in the spring. Nature is testing us.
It was late at night. Well, maybe it was early in the morning. Carly and I were enjoying a rare night of playing video games when I heard her. "Clock Bok Bok Bok" our old lady chicken, Nugget was sounding her alarm. I saw through the back window that the flock of ducks was upset and on the move. I shouted "No!" and ran to the door but saw nothing. As I settled down into the couch I heard her call again, loud and intense, "Bok BOK, ACK!" Now Harvey was at my side. Carly was coming behind me and I threw the door open again. Harvey darted out in a sprint and we heard a scream that sounded like neither cat nor rabbit. With his long white canine teeth, Harvey charged a raccoon the size of a small dog. The raccoon screamed again and took to the fence. Barking and chasing he stood at the foot of a tree as I came running out with a broom handle in my hand. Honestly, I have no idea why I was outside in the middle of the night in a bathrobe with a broomstick. Racoons are terrifying. I wouldn't want to engage one in hand to hand combat. As I ran out, Nugget had run in.
Nugget is a wise old girl. She molts every year at this time. It is gross and inconvenient that she is lush and full in the hottest months of the year but then molts in the bitter months. She is independent and one of our old ladies. Other than Bobby, a chicken we just lost to a predator, she is my favorite. With the bravery to run at a man running out of a door, she ran into our kitchen. As I stood on our patio and continued to encourage Harvey like the boy from Where the Red Fern Grows I could hear that Carly was talking to the birds. I could hear the sounds of quacks and the flap flap flapping of feet on our hardwood floor. Nugget paved the trail to freedom for our flock of ducks. I now had seven ducks and a chicken in our kitchen.
Pandemonium and calm is the life of a duck. Our ducks really are a flock. When they are disjointed it is pandemonium. There is quacking, flapping, and chaos. Feathers fly, and the air is filled with noise. But when they settle into their flock it is very calm. Male ducks don't quack. They make a low noise like the cross between a bird noise and a cat purring. When the flock is calm they make the most noise. Harvey was still out on the hunt as we watched the flock settle in the kitchen. Carly marveled at how the males all surrounded the youngest female. Their mother had just died a few weeks ago and I wonder if they felt some biological compulsion to protect their line. Our older ducks were all on the outside. I thought about our lost mamma duck Norman and confirmed my belief that she was protecting her flock and I missed her. Nugget stood off from the flock, old and wise. She tucked one foot into her body and tried to sleep. Harvey gave up the hunt and was now fogging up the back door. We decided to get dressed and go make a headcount for the other chickens and make sure the rabbits were fine. Evidence of the scuffle was everywhere and we saw feathers all over the yard. One chicken was missing. Dreading the gruesome confirmation of death by raccoon we walked around the yard only to see a very scared chicken tucked and hidden into the corner of where house and fence met. I'm certain that Harvey saved this lady's life.
So often in this farm experiment I look for the moral lesson in Nature. As I feel embarrassed that I am not able to be a better steward of my birds is Nature forcing me to pay the toll? Raccoons need to eat. They are part of nature, but when I find a dead bird the next day it is hard for me to say that it is nature's to take, I want it to be mine. Is the lesson that Harvey is an actual farm dog and his instincts to bark that we find so obnoxious were exactly what was needed to save the flock? Maybe the lesson is that a flock is made to protect the weak, and that the loss of one of our ducks is not sad, just nature. Or maybe the lesson is that Nugget survives because she is a wise old bird who refuses to be dinner. The more I think though, the more I think there is no lesson. Nature happens. Life happens. Sometimes the lesson is the experience. It is watching life happen and knowing all that is around you a little better.
No comments:
Post a Comment