Last night, I let the ducks free-range while I got everything ready to lock them in for the night. I cleaned their bedding, refreshed their water, and, most importantly, added a sprinkle of mealworms to the water as their nighttime treat.
Daphne and her sisters heard the mealworm bag and came running in. Daphne pushed her sisters out of the way and dove for the mealworms floating around before she almost immediately starting shaking her head and oozing yellow slime from the corners of her beak. She couldn’t quack, and it looked like she could barely breathe.
She tried washing her beak out without success and became more and more panicked, as did I. It appeared that she was either choking or had eaten something poisonous right before running in.
I grabbed her and ran to the house, where I tried to see if I could clear her airway (not easy with a panicking and flailing duck) or at least rinse her beak out.
After about 15(?) minutes or so of getting nowhere, I asked my dear hubby to make sure the other ducks were locked in as we were going to have to drive the 45 minutes to the emergency vet as I couldn’t just watch her die.
As I was fumbling with my phone to call the vet, Daphne threw herself back into the tub and started furiously bathing herself and started quacking.
I took her outside and put her down, and appeared to be almost back to normal. I decided to let her be overnight as she was improving, and the emergency vet here only really treats dogs and cats.
Back in the barn, she was greeted with an enthusiastic Muscovy dance party from her sisters.
I was so scared that she would be dead this morning. I had nightmares.
Thankfully, she seems to be her normal self. I still don’t know if she ate a bee or “bad” caterpillar or if she choked on her mealworms. I’ll be watching her closely over the weekend.
Anyways, that is my story of how “the duck that started it all”, the survivor of a fisher attack and serious reproductive issues, almost got taken out by a bad insect or her beloved mealworms.
Daphne and her sisters heard the mealworm bag and came running in. Daphne pushed her sisters out of the way and dove for the mealworms floating around before she almost immediately starting shaking her head and oozing yellow slime from the corners of her beak. She couldn’t quack, and it looked like she could barely breathe.
She tried washing her beak out without success and became more and more panicked, as did I. It appeared that she was either choking or had eaten something poisonous right before running in.
I grabbed her and ran to the house, where I tried to see if I could clear her airway (not easy with a panicking and flailing duck) or at least rinse her beak out.
After about 15(?) minutes or so of getting nowhere, I asked my dear hubby to make sure the other ducks were locked in as we were going to have to drive the 45 minutes to the emergency vet as I couldn’t just watch her die.
As I was fumbling with my phone to call the vet, Daphne threw herself back into the tub and started furiously bathing herself and started quacking.
I took her outside and put her down, and appeared to be almost back to normal. I decided to let her be overnight as she was improving, and the emergency vet here only really treats dogs and cats.
Back in the barn, she was greeted with an enthusiastic Muscovy dance party from her sisters.
I was so scared that she would be dead this morning. I had nightmares.
Thankfully, she seems to be her normal self. I still don’t know if she ate a bee or “bad” caterpillar or if she choked on her mealworms. I’ll be watching her closely over the weekend.
Anyways, that is my story of how “the duck that started it all”, the survivor of a fisher attack and serious reproductive issues, almost got taken out by a bad insect or her beloved mealworms.
