Therapy ducks are rare birds
By SUSAN SCHWARTZ
Press Enterprise Writer
BLOOMSBURG Five ducks took turns walking on a leash, quacking at admirers and modeling specially designed diapers as they vied to win certification as official therapy ducks recently.
But some of them had their composure really put to the test when a dog got a little too personal.
Afro, Stumpy, Daffy, Von Drake and Donald of Young's Funny Farm were waddling in the footsteps of Frenchie and Lucky, whom Neil and Vonnie Young had previously certified as the country's only known therapy ducks.
Those ducks had been an enormous hit at area nursing homes, elementary schools and special education classes, said Mr. Young. Autistic children seemed especially charmed by the birds.
"You can just see the joy in their eyes, and the way they concentrate," Mr. Young said. "They get very, very focused. And they smile.
"... Stroking the soft feathers seems to stimulate them. And many people find it relaxing."
But ducks live only about six years, he said. Lucky passed away. Besides, even the most sociable of ducks can get stressed after extended handling, Mr. Young said, so it's good to have several on hand to spell each other.
You can tell the pressure is getting to a duck when it opens its beak slightly and starts panting, he said.
Long, waddling road
Between veterinarian bills and registration fees, it costs about $162 to certify a duck for therapy, Mr. Young said. And not every duck is made of the right stuff.
First, a therapy duck candidate must calmly accept being handled. Mr. Young tests them by cradling them like babies on their backs, a very unnatural position for a duck.
Then a veterinarian must test the duck's waste to make sure it isn't carrying any diseases, he said.
Handlers have to spend a lot of time carrying, holding and petting the ducks to get them used to the contact, he said.
Finally, the birds must pass a string of tests modified from the test for the more common therapy dogs.
Some of the rules make sense: The ducks have to demonstrate they enjoy being petted by strangers, even clumsy or overly enthusiastic ones.
They need to stay calm in the face of people yelling angrily around them, and politely take or ignore snacks offered to them.
Other tests seem less reasonable. All five ducks had no trouble showing they could ignore toys, including the stuffed bone the Youngs brought. Ducks don't generally play with toys.
Duck diapers
The diapers, which Mrs. Young placed over the ducks' tails, were not a wild success. Daffy, the first to be tested, spent much of her exam pulling at the harness with her beak.
For the rest of the ducks, the Youngs skipped the diapers and just held the birds on towels; the diapers weren't required for certification.
Linda Hendricks, Columbia County's 4-H educator, tested the animals, pretending to be an excited small child, shouting questions at Daffy, bumping her from behind, and bouncing her gently as she held her.
Daffy, a Rouen, passed with flying colors.
Stumpy, a small mallard-Muscovy mix who was named after losing his foot to a turtle in a pond at the Youngs' farm, had a rougher time.
He started out fine, sitting calmly on Mrs. Young's lap, politely drinking some water Hendricks offered him, and merely cocking his head when Hendricks yelled at him.
Toughest trial
But then came the test with the neutral dog.
According to the test, the dog is supposed to approach the potential therapy animal while their owners exchange pleasantries and then move on.
But Timmy tried to play with the ducks, mouthing their necks.
That was too much for Stumpy, who, despite his missing foot, fled quacking under a table.
The excitement startled Afro, another mallard-Muscovy mix with an impressive crest who was being carried in by Mrs. Young for his test. Afro flapped his wings and freed himself from Mrs. Young's grasp, then ran under another table.
After a few minutes, the Youngs and Hendricks were able to recapture both ducks to continue their tests.
Afro took a couple of retaliatory pecks at Timmy from the safety of Mrs. Young's lap later, but since his almost-invisible tiny teeth can't break skin, he didn't do any damage.
And in the end, Hendricks gave all five ducks passing grades.
That means the ducks are now certified by the Delta Society, and the Youngs can get insurance to cover the animals when they visit nursing homes, hospitals and schools, Mr. Young said.
By SUSAN SCHWARTZ
Press Enterprise Writer
BLOOMSBURG Five ducks took turns walking on a leash, quacking at admirers and modeling specially designed diapers as they vied to win certification as official therapy ducks recently.
But some of them had their composure really put to the test when a dog got a little too personal.
Afro, Stumpy, Daffy, Von Drake and Donald of Young's Funny Farm were waddling in the footsteps of Frenchie and Lucky, whom Neil and Vonnie Young had previously certified as the country's only known therapy ducks.
Those ducks had been an enormous hit at area nursing homes, elementary schools and special education classes, said Mr. Young. Autistic children seemed especially charmed by the birds.
"You can just see the joy in their eyes, and the way they concentrate," Mr. Young said. "They get very, very focused. And they smile.
"... Stroking the soft feathers seems to stimulate them. And many people find it relaxing."
But ducks live only about six years, he said. Lucky passed away. Besides, even the most sociable of ducks can get stressed after extended handling, Mr. Young said, so it's good to have several on hand to spell each other.
You can tell the pressure is getting to a duck when it opens its beak slightly and starts panting, he said.
Long, waddling road
Between veterinarian bills and registration fees, it costs about $162 to certify a duck for therapy, Mr. Young said. And not every duck is made of the right stuff.
First, a therapy duck candidate must calmly accept being handled. Mr. Young tests them by cradling them like babies on their backs, a very unnatural position for a duck.
Then a veterinarian must test the duck's waste to make sure it isn't carrying any diseases, he said.
Handlers have to spend a lot of time carrying, holding and petting the ducks to get them used to the contact, he said.
Finally, the birds must pass a string of tests modified from the test for the more common therapy dogs.
Some of the rules make sense: The ducks have to demonstrate they enjoy being petted by strangers, even clumsy or overly enthusiastic ones.
They need to stay calm in the face of people yelling angrily around them, and politely take or ignore snacks offered to them.
Other tests seem less reasonable. All five ducks had no trouble showing they could ignore toys, including the stuffed bone the Youngs brought. Ducks don't generally play with toys.
Duck diapers
The diapers, which Mrs. Young placed over the ducks' tails, were not a wild success. Daffy, the first to be tested, spent much of her exam pulling at the harness with her beak.
For the rest of the ducks, the Youngs skipped the diapers and just held the birds on towels; the diapers weren't required for certification.
Linda Hendricks, Columbia County's 4-H educator, tested the animals, pretending to be an excited small child, shouting questions at Daffy, bumping her from behind, and bouncing her gently as she held her.
Daffy, a Rouen, passed with flying colors.
Stumpy, a small mallard-Muscovy mix who was named after losing his foot to a turtle in a pond at the Youngs' farm, had a rougher time.
He started out fine, sitting calmly on Mrs. Young's lap, politely drinking some water Hendricks offered him, and merely cocking his head when Hendricks yelled at him.
Toughest trial
But then came the test with the neutral dog.
According to the test, the dog is supposed to approach the potential therapy animal while their owners exchange pleasantries and then move on.
But Timmy tried to play with the ducks, mouthing their necks.
That was too much for Stumpy, who, despite his missing foot, fled quacking under a table.
The excitement startled Afro, another mallard-Muscovy mix with an impressive crest who was being carried in by Mrs. Young for his test. Afro flapped his wings and freed himself from Mrs. Young's grasp, then ran under another table.
After a few minutes, the Youngs and Hendricks were able to recapture both ducks to continue their tests.
Afro took a couple of retaliatory pecks at Timmy from the safety of Mrs. Young's lap later, but since his almost-invisible tiny teeth can't break skin, he didn't do any damage.
And in the end, Hendricks gave all five ducks passing grades.
That means the ducks are now certified by the Delta Society, and the Youngs can get insurance to cover the animals when they visit nursing homes, hospitals and schools, Mr. Young said.
