As I have shared already, the hubby flew us to Philadelphia and New York for our 1 year anniversary this year. Or last year, I suppose now. But as we have a small farm in our house, we needed someone to care for our brood.
A dear friend, someone we have both known for years, Kurt, planned to stay at our house for the week we were leaving. Wednesday, the yippy chihuahua, was packed off to her grammy and gramps's house, while George and June, the bumblingly adorable and loving pitts, and Reggie, the angsty and stand-offish cat, were to be guarded and cared for by Uncle Kurt and Max, the eager to please Golden Retriever. Also to be watched were our two fish and Peggy and Sal, our female and male ducks. The story thickens.
You may be asking yourself, "Friday, really, how do you manage to have three dogs and two ducks and live peaceably?"
The answer to that is simple. You beat your bird blood thirsty dog when it gets near your ducks. And then chastise for any aggressive behaviors afterward. And watch them together. Since we acquired the ducks in July, we really thought we were past all of this.
We packed off for the big cities, and forgot about our menagerie for the moment.
Until the second day of our trip. Nay... we had been gone for less than 24 hours... We get a phone call as we walked around downtown Philadelphia.
Ring ring (Actually, Patrick's ring tone sounds like the phone from Crank)
P: "Hey Kurt, what's up?"
A: "Tell him I said hi..."(Theatrical whisper)
Patrick begins to look serious...
P: "Oh. Did you beat him? Yeah... I'm sorry you're having to deal with this. Just put her in the freezer. We'll take care of it when we get home."
Click. End of phone call. Patrick turns to me...
P: "Well, Peggy is dead. George snapped her neck."
My mouth drops. Then laughter.
A: "Well, serves us right for having ducks and dogs. Damn..."
Together: "Poor Kurt."
Don't get me wrong. I love animals. Hubby loves animals. As should be clear from our pack. But the ducks? Mainly for food. We wanted eggs. Farm animals, all the way. And humor. Those things are hilarious to watch run.
It seems that Kurt took all the dogs outside for a potty break. He came back inside to grab something, leaving the dogs and the ducks alone for a fraction of a moment (which we have been doing, nothing different), and George felt the need to jump on top of our female duck.
When Kurt returned outside, he said George looked petrified and was just laying on the duck. Not trying to eat her, not trying to dismember her in any way. He knew better.
Thus, we have one duck, and one duck only. Maybe we'll get some more. Peggy is still in the freezer though. Hubby has plans to have a duck roast. We need to do it soon, or I'm putting the kabosh on that.
No one wants spoiled duck meat.