It’s a little after 5:30 on a hot, summer afternoon, and my “evening” chores are done. I’ve checked the eggs for the final time this evening. (16 in nest boxes, 1 in the run I’ll put up when I put everyone to bed), and I’ve brought SuperDuck in for the night. Normally, I’d keep him out until right before dark, when I shut the chickens in their coop and latch the door. But we’ve been having some raccoon sightings, and my little duck doesn’t understand that he’s poultry. He thinks he’s a feathered person with a beak. So I bring SuperDuck inside.
The routine is simple. I open the door, say “Hey sexy duck!” and wave the toe of my black rubber boot at him. It’s a target that he kind of trained himself to, so he comes running, splashing across his “pond” and starts “nibbling” on my boot. I scoop him up, my hand and arm across his chest to keep him from wiggling free and we go into the house.
He’s usually pretty good until we get close to the front door and he starts quacking as if to say “watch out cats, here I come”. I put him in his crate for the night and he starts to supervise the goings on on the house. He likes to give commentary while I’m cooking dinner.
I think on these hot days even though the house means he can’t talk to his ladies (two crested ducks on the other side of the fence) or lord over his little kiddie pool, he appreciates the air conditioning. And I feel a little bit better knowing that he’s inside, safe and cool.