Unwittingchickenlady
Songster
Ducks are messy.
Ducks are muddy.
Ducks will throw all their water from the dish in ten seconds flat and then yell at you like you haven't given them water for days.
The biggest lesson I've learned though?
Ducks are amazing.
Henry was a 2x "leftover" we were given for free from tractor supply with the purchase of his remaining broodmate Boots. He was a week or two older than boots, massive in comparison size wise, a leftover from two batches back of Khaki Campbell's.
I didn't want ducks.
They ruin the brooder.
They ruin the water.
They dig holes in the lawn.
They poop EVERYWHERE.
My oldest begged, "Just one? One will be fine it won't be too messy."
I watched the two balls of brown fluff stumble clumsily over the wood chips scattered along the bottom of the metal tub, one duckling much larger than the other.
"Fine. If it starts tearing all my grass up though it's coming to live with you."
The tractor supply staff slipped Henry in with the little duck my daughter picked out, explaining that they needed a companion, and Henry had to go anyway so freebie bonus duck.
Henry did everything gross imaginable and more. No one told me the worst thing about ducks though, which is just how easily they'll steal your heart.
I absolutely adore that clumsy, messy little derp.
Henry would scream when I pet him, picked him up, or looked at him funny. Boots was only a day or two old, she didn't have any issues warming up to people.
I seriously thought we'd never be friends.
Mealworms and cucumbers, patience and consistency and much reading and rereading of Tyrant Farms advice, and I can happily say Henry is probably as fond of me now as I am of him.
I've come to understand his mannerisms and noises some. Henry's primary mode of operation tends to be excited, tail wags and a flurry of happy noise. He warns of overhead predators, loves getting his sides scratched, and is nothing like any other bird I've ever known.
I'm not even sure if he's actually a "He" yet, my oldest son named him and it just stuck.
Ducks are muddy.
Ducks will throw all their water from the dish in ten seconds flat and then yell at you like you haven't given them water for days.
The biggest lesson I've learned though?
Ducks are amazing.
Henry was a 2x "leftover" we were given for free from tractor supply with the purchase of his remaining broodmate Boots. He was a week or two older than boots, massive in comparison size wise, a leftover from two batches back of Khaki Campbell's.
I didn't want ducks.
They ruin the brooder.
They ruin the water.
They dig holes in the lawn.
They poop EVERYWHERE.
My oldest begged, "Just one? One will be fine it won't be too messy."
I watched the two balls of brown fluff stumble clumsily over the wood chips scattered along the bottom of the metal tub, one duckling much larger than the other.
"Fine. If it starts tearing all my grass up though it's coming to live with you."
The tractor supply staff slipped Henry in with the little duck my daughter picked out, explaining that they needed a companion, and Henry had to go anyway so freebie bonus duck.
Henry did everything gross imaginable and more. No one told me the worst thing about ducks though, which is just how easily they'll steal your heart.
I absolutely adore that clumsy, messy little derp.
Henry would scream when I pet him, picked him up, or looked at him funny. Boots was only a day or two old, she didn't have any issues warming up to people.
I seriously thought we'd never be friends.
Mealworms and cucumbers, patience and consistency and much reading and rereading of Tyrant Farms advice, and I can happily say Henry is probably as fond of me now as I am of him.
I've come to understand his mannerisms and noises some. Henry's primary mode of operation tends to be excited, tail wags and a flurry of happy noise. He warns of overhead predators, loves getting his sides scratched, and is nothing like any other bird I've ever known.
I'm not even sure if he's actually a "He" yet, my oldest son named him and it just stuck.
, and yet they are the most lovable creatures.
