Unwittingchickenlady
Songster
I was really swamped trying to get the fam's last minute additions for NYE, store here, store there, rushing to get home.
It was dark, got all the ducks back into the winter coop (I thought), they're not used to it, I thought the weird, skittish reaction was because it was their first time free ranging in a week, and having to figure out the winter coop door (it's just a regular coop door, but up until it plummeted to 6°F they lived in the front half of my barn in dog crates, and used a human door to go in at night)
I brought them a big bucket of duck spaghetti in the morning to wish them all a happy New year, and Boots wasn't there. I searched for her or any sign of her all day. I combed every inch of my property, and the adjoining neighbours, over four acres, and not even so much as a feather to be found.
I'm so heartbroken over it, I thought they'd be safe, it was raining, and predators tend to shy away in bad weather.
I can't stop playing it over in my mind, how she probably died scared and in agony. There's nothing humane about how other animals kill. Maybe if I hadn't been so preoccupied with stupid things I'd have noticed she wasn't there, maybe I could have saved her still.
She was my smallest duck, a sassy little sweetheart that always quacked back when I called her name. She was Henry's mate, and they cared for each other so much.
I don't ever want to let them out again. I have a lot of birds, I know they'll all eventually die, and I will live to see it, I just didn't realize how hard that would actually hit me.
My ducks aren't for production, I can't even use their gross, super poopy eggs. They're my friends that live in the backyard, they make me smile and laugh with their antics, they always have excited hellos for me, and they're always glad to see me.
She was a wonderful friend. I wish I hadn't let her down.
Boots and Henry having romaine heart soup. She was the one with the greenish bill.
Miss you so much, little duck.
It was dark, got all the ducks back into the winter coop (I thought), they're not used to it, I thought the weird, skittish reaction was because it was their first time free ranging in a week, and having to figure out the winter coop door (it's just a regular coop door, but up until it plummeted to 6°F they lived in the front half of my barn in dog crates, and used a human door to go in at night)
I brought them a big bucket of duck spaghetti in the morning to wish them all a happy New year, and Boots wasn't there. I searched for her or any sign of her all day. I combed every inch of my property, and the adjoining neighbours, over four acres, and not even so much as a feather to be found.
I'm so heartbroken over it, I thought they'd be safe, it was raining, and predators tend to shy away in bad weather.
I can't stop playing it over in my mind, how she probably died scared and in agony. There's nothing humane about how other animals kill. Maybe if I hadn't been so preoccupied with stupid things I'd have noticed she wasn't there, maybe I could have saved her still.
She was my smallest duck, a sassy little sweetheart that always quacked back when I called her name. She was Henry's mate, and they cared for each other so much.
I don't ever want to let them out again. I have a lot of birds, I know they'll all eventually die, and I will live to see it, I just didn't realize how hard that would actually hit me.
My ducks aren't for production, I can't even use their gross, super poopy eggs. They're my friends that live in the backyard, they make me smile and laugh with their antics, they always have excited hellos for me, and they're always glad to see me.
She was a wonderful friend. I wish I hadn't let her down.
Boots and Henry having romaine heart soup. She was the one with the greenish bill.
Miss you so much, little duck.
