|Posted by Angie on May 5, 2014 at 2:15 PM||comments (0)|
Things have been going pretty well around here at the farm. We've been extremely busy with the Lucky 7 (our 7 new ducklings) and the Sweet 16 (our 16 new chickies) and our new gardens (and fighting the bugs and weeds).
It's just been "business as usual" --until this morning. Either Daisy or Duke (most probably Daisy) attacked Frik. It might quite possibly a life or death situation. I will not post a picture of Frik because it is quite disturbing.
I hate to admit this, but I am crying as I am writing. I love that damn duck. A lot more than I ever thought.
If you can remember awhile back, we originally started with Frik and Frak (see March 27, 2013 post). Frak met his untimely death by unsuccessfully "fronting" a bobcat and losing his head--literally (see September 24, 2013 post). I'll be the first to admit that I was a little bit upset over losing Frak (not really). However, when we replaced him with Fran, life around Ginger Goat Farm was quite a bit more peaceful (and Frik was MUCH happier).
I am not quite sure exactly what all happened this morning; all I know is that Daisy chased Frik over to me while I was still cleaning and feeding the new babies (chickies and duckies). Honestly, I wasn't prepared to take proper care of him when he lept into my arms. His neck was completely raw and I noticed a few puncture marks in his neck. I was in complete shock. so, I screamed at the dogs to go back in the house and I put Frik back down by the pond. I feel responsible for most (or all) of it because Billy and I used to entertain ourselves by watching Duke and Daisy chase Frik and Fran in the pond--except we didn't want them to hurt them!!!!
Now, several hours later, I still don't know what to do. I called several vets (oh, yes I did) and they would be happy for me to bring him in for a battery of tests, antibiotics, etc., etc., but my head keeps reminding my heart that FRIK IS A DUCK. I do not want to become that crazy duck lady that spends hundreds of dollars (plus I can't even catch him now to put him in my car) ON A DUCK! And, I have 7 little baby duckies that will be full grown in 6 weeks (Pekin ducks are full grown in 7 weeks. It's crazy how fast they grow). Regardless, I still love Frik (Billy is so mad at me for naming all of these animals).
So, I have been digging around the Internet trying to find out what I should do. Let me tell you, there are some crazy duck ladies (and gentlemen) out there. Some sites recommend leaving injured ducks alone and some are just completely over the top (just Google "duck attacked" or "duck injury" but be forewarned, some of the posted pictures are pretty graphic).
Twice today, I have gone over to Frik to try to get a closer look and to, hopefully, give him some basic first aid, but he is still pretty shell-shocked (understandably). So, please keep Frik in your thoughts for a speedy, ful recovery. I will keep you posted on what happens to him.
Oh, BTW, I am not mad at the dogs. I understand that dogs will be dogs, but they will not be going outside unsupervised anymore until we can figure out how the dogs and ducks can live in harmony.
|Posted by Angie on April 21, 2014 at 5:00 PM||comments (0)|
Yeah....I'm looking at you!
What are you going to do about it? Me and my homeys will KILL you with our cuteness.
|Posted by Angie on April 21, 2014 at 3:00 PM||comments (0)|
We have just added a few new residents to Ginger Goat Farm. Introducing the "Sweet 16":
Sixteen Buff Orpingtons (rather than the 10 Rhode Island Red [RIR] girls we currently have).
There is absolutely nothing wrong with my RIR girls, but it is time for some new little babies around here and the feed store only had Buff Orpingtons (and after some quick research on Wikipedia and My Pet Chicken, the Buffs seem fine to me; in fact, they'll probably look exactly like my other girls when they grow up). This go around, we are going with a "straight run" (i.e. "unsexed...might have half boys/girls, all boys, all girls, who knows?). I am not a big rooster fan, but...supposedly...Buff roosters are pretty mellow (We will see....).
Stay tuned...we will be getting 6 baby ducks this Wednesday!!!!!!!!
|Posted by Angie on April 12, 2014 at 12:50 AM||comments (0)|
A change of events has been going on around the farm....Frik has been/is being a real SOB to Fran (I discussed it a bit in the March 19, 2014 post), but he is getting worse! Check out Fran's neck:
Awful, isn't? Her neck is raw and looks incredibly painful. Poor Fran (I am a huge Fran fan now).
I haven't reported on Daisy and Duke for awhile. They're fine. Actually, they're more than fine. The two of them strut around Ginger Goat Farm like they run/own the place (all 60+ pounds of Duke and 50+ pounds of Daisy). It's quite cute. The unfortunate thing about the Dynamic Duo is they LOVE LOVE LOVE to put anything/everything in their mouths and drag it anywhere and anywhere. We find tree branches under the couch, rocks in the pool, and chewed palms leaves still hanging off the tree. If they can wrap their mouths around it, it will be chewed, moved, and left.
However, I can't complain too much, they haven't done much of the "classic" puppy chewing behavior such as chewing up a favorite, most expensive pair of shoes (or even worse, just chewing up ONE shoe) or gnawing on the side of a chair leg or chomping through an entire couch (but I do have to admit, my throw pillows on the couch bit the dust months ago). But I'll tell you, those Indestructibles dog toys are total BS. Check out what the Dynamic Duo do to "Indestructibles" in 30 minutes:
That ball under Daisy's (on the right) foot was orange (it's now clear)...the cover is behind and under her back paws. And the ball Duke (on the left) is playing with, half is by his back leg and we have no idea where the other half went (maybe he ate it). THIS PICTURE WAS TAKEN 30 MINUTES AFTER THEY GOT THEIR TOYS. THIRTY MINUTES!!!
|Posted by Angie on March 31, 2014 at 10:55 AM||comments (0)|
Sad news to report from Ginger Goat Farm....Fran abandoned her clutch after nearly 3 weeks in. Even odder, NONE of the eggs were fertilized????
|Posted by Angie on March 19, 2014 at 12:30 AM||comments (0)|
One week ago--today--Fran started sitting, consistently, on her clutch (see last post). So, if she can hang in there for 3 more weeks (it takes 28 days for duck eggs to hatch), we will have a flock (or a brace, badelynge, or a bunch) of ducklings. It is SO exciting, but I have to share with you that Fran looks pretty worse for wear right now. She looks exhausted--and hot. We don't bother her too much, but when we do go back there and check on her, we can't help but feel for her.
Let me tell you, from what I've seen, being a female Pekin duck doesn't look like it's all that fun...from their mating patterns (looks kind of rape-y to me...and Frik is a pretty gentle dude) to the bald spot on her head and those big eggs she lays everyday...hell just might be coming back to this earth as a female Pekin duck. For reals.
So, we'll keep you posted on Fran's progress!
Also, I harvested my first "advanced" crop, cauliflower. Check it out:
Pretty, huh? I am pretty excited (the chickens absolutely loved the leaves). I've done pretty well with my tomatoes and lettuce; however, not so good with my potatoes, peppers, and onions. I am still waiting on my eggplant and brussel sprouts. In the next few weeks, I am looking to start growing my "tropical" fruits and vegetables (bananas, papaya, guava, etc.). Still have no idea what I am doing in the gardening department, but I am hoping as time goes on, more will live than I kill.
|Posted by Angie on January 13, 2014 at 10:50 AM||comments (0)|
UPDATE (from "Ginger Goat Spa, for hens" January 2, 2014 post):
Princess Gimpy is barely gimping. We can barely distinguish her from the rest of the girls. She's hopping on the roost bar every night and laying her eggs in the nest box (because, for the past 4 days, we have been getting 10 eggs).
It appears my "spa day" was effective (so, maybe I'm not THAT crazy).
|Posted by Angie on January 2, 2014 at 3:20 PM||comments (0)|
Happy New Year!
I am thrilled to write that I have a garden started...finally. As I have expressed before, gardening has been *challenging* out here (see April 10, 2013 post). Well, with the weather finally cooling off around here, I have a bonafide garden. Hooray!
As of right now, I have (successfully) started:
- Green peppers
- Brussel sprouts (don't care, yummy)
- Green snap peas
- Green onions
- Some herbs (rosemary, mint, and lavender so far...)
- And, oddly enough, potatoes (from some sprouts on an old potato I had lying around)
And I have killed, thus far:
- Tomatoes (some made it, some didn't)
Just give me time, I am sure other plants will meet their demise. I am really digging (no pun intended) gardening--IN THE WINTER--out here. When summer rolls around again, maybe I will be better equipped to give it another go (or not).
Also, I have story I want to share.
Well, I *think* I do. It's sort of embarrassing...
Oh, what the hell, I'll share it with you.
A couple of days ago, I noticed one of our chickens started limping around the yard. Nothing too terrible--she was still scratching around for bugs and grass along with the other girls, but she was noticeably hobbling behind. After a couple of days, her gimp appeared to be worse. So, like any other (clueless) concerned homesteader, I Googled "limping chicken" to figure out what was wrong with her. I also learned a few other things:
- I'm not AS crazy as some other people raising chickens.
- An egg stuck up a hen's butt can cause limping (and I needed to stick my finger up there to find out [ummmm....NO]).
- Bumblefoot sounds really painful (she doesn't have that).
So, using deductive reasoning after my thorough research on this topic (and really wanting to avoid sticking my finger up her butt), I came to the conclusion that she bruised her leg jumping up and down the roosting bar (or tripped over something in the yard). So, to help her ailing leg, I gave our limping hen--now named Princess Gimpy, (not to be confused with Pinky Tuscadero [see August 17, 2013 post] or The Wanderer [see October 15, 2013 post])--a "spa day" (Oh, yes I did.). I am so "chicken whipped" that I actually drew that damn bird a warm bath, massaged her leg, wrapped her in a warm towel and held her on my lap for an hour (while we watched TV). After all of that, I hand fed her some crushed up corn chips with half a baby aspirin crushed in them. Oh yes...I did ALL of that. Here she is relaxing after her "treatment":
I have her isolated inside the coup for the next few days so she can rest that leg. Poor Princess Gimpy!
|Posted by Angie on December 26, 2013 at 12:15 AM||comments (0)|
A very warm, relaxing, and safe Holiday Season:
From The Wanderer (and us) to you!
(Keeping this hat on her head long enough to take a picture was NOT easy!)
|Posted by Angie on December 19, 2013 at 2:00 PM||comments (0)|
October 30? Sheesh, time flies. It's been a blur these past weeks (err...months). Seriously. Nothing really earth shattering has been going on, just enough that everytime I get ready to sit down and post (and/or feel inspired by something that happened around here), something else diverts my attention (who knows?...it might be an unexpected, later-in-life onslought of ADHD). Whatever, I apologize for not sharing some of our stories lately. I WON'T let it happen again.
Well, about a month ago we celebrated our one year anniversary here at Ginger Goat Farm, and like every other event that occurs in life, the anticipation of the date was more exciting than the actual day. I don't mean to sound all "Negative Nancy," but I think you know what I mean. For example, think about your graduation day (from high school, college, 8th grade, whatever...). Remember how much you couldn't wait for that day to come? And then, when it did happen...after it all happened...you were sort of like, "Meh!"
Our one year anniversary for Ginger Goat Farm was a day like any other day out here...taking care of the animals and trying to (still) get a handle on everything. Daisy and Duke (the Dynamic Duo) are HUGE. Duke is over 60 lbs. (62ish) and Daisy is over 50 lbs. (54ish). I just snapped a pic of them earlier today:
Daisy (or Crazy) is in the foreground giving you her sexiest pose with her come-hither eyes and Duke (or Stinky, see the last post) is in the background with his size 15 ears (on a size 8 body), probably farting up a storm (that dog has a natural born "gift"). They're good dogs (hard to believe in a month in a half they will a be YEAR OLD!). They no longer sleep in crates. They sleep on the floor, next to our bed every night (and Duke "dutifully" licks my face every morning at 6AM to let me know it's time to wake up).
The chicken posse are happy girls. Just about everyday we get 10 eggs--which is pretty good considering we are heading into winter (shorter days usually mean less egg production). They still squat and want to be picked up whenever we go near them.
Frik and Fran are fat and sassy. Fran has laid an egg pretty much everyday for the past month (unfertilized, which is weird because we see them "gettin' it on" just about every morning on the pond, see last post). Duck eggs sorta taste like chicken eggs, but not really. Last week, I made a pumpkin pie with some (epic fail). Every once in awhile, I fry/scramble some ducks eggs--we can barely tell the difference (they're more "yolky"). We heard that we could sell those suckers for a BUCK a piece, that might be our new business... Duck eggs are huge:
FYI: The chicken egg (the brown one) is an extra-extra large egg (we can barely fit it in a standard egg carton). Yeah--that's how big a duck egg is (and the yolk is more orange than yellow).
Well, I have to go clean a duck house (because, unfortunately, they just don't clean themselves). Next post, I'll share with you some of our adventures in cooking (because if we are going to grab a hold of this whole homesteading thing, we [well, really mostly me, Billy is a really good cook] have to start cooking and eating the stuff around here).
CORRECTION: DUKE IS 59 LBS. AND DAISY IS 51 LBS.
|Posted by Angie on October 30, 2013 at 8:00 PM||comments (0)|
I haven't posted anything for awhile; it's not because nothing has been going on--quite the contrary--we have been super busy pulling it together around the homestead. Among some of the things we have done include (finally) containing the chickens in a *luxurious* run of their own (i.e. we can now start a garden without them scratching/digging the hell out of it), hooking up the water solar panels, installing a PV system (it's not quite done yet, but we are on our way!), and just all around cleaning up around here.
All of the animals are doing well. We think that Frik and Fran might have "gotten it on" (finally! [see September 24th post]). A few mornings ago, I was out doing my morning chores and--I am pretty sure--I saw Frik ON Fran in the pond. Which is excellent news on so many levels because:
- Maybe he will stop raping my hens (or whatever he is trying to do...they don't like it, and neither does Fran).
- Fran will stop (or at least curtail) her incessant quacking.
- They will now hang out on the pond (their "love shack") and quit hanging around the front porch, pecking on the front door and shitting everywhere.
- We might have baby ducklings soon (and NOTHING is cuter than baby ducklings).
- rotten eggs
- dirty hippie hair
- dead fish
|Posted by Angie on October 15, 2013 at 3:20 PM||comments (0)|
You know, I learn something new (or disprove something I thought I knew) everyday out here on the homestead. Yesterday afternoon turned into one of those days that I disproved something that I thought I already knew. Did you know that chickens (or really A chicken) will wander off from the flock? And when I say wander, I don't mean a few hundred feet, I mean like a mile away.
Yesterday started out like any other day...Billy was out-and-about taking care of some business and I was at home, working on the computer, interspersed with some tasks that needed to be done outside...
Before I go any further with my story, I have to admit a little crazy habit I always do around here. I am not sure if it is OCD or anything, but it is something I find myself doing EVERY time I go outside...I count chickens. And when I say I count chickens, I don't go around and count them like you normally would, you know "1-2-3...to 10". Oh no, I go "1-2-3", "1-2-3", "1-2-3-4". What the heck is that about? Seriously, is that weird or what?
Every flipping time I go outside, I count them.
"1-2-3", "1-2-3", "1-2-3-4".
"1-2-3", "1-2-3", "1-2-3-4".
I just can't help myself. I just do it.
Anyway, yesterday afternoon I was transitioning from "inside" work to "outside" work, saw the chickens, and started my freaky little "1-2-3", "1-2-3", "1-2-3-4" craziness; however THIS time it wasn't "1-2-3", "1-2-3", "1-2-3-4", it was "1-2-3", "1-2-3", "1-2-3".
You recognize the difference here, don't you? It was 1-2-3", "1-2-3", "1-2-3...and NO 4...no matter how many times I counted them there was NO 4 on my last count. I started to freak out a little bit. Where's the fourth chicken around here (I know it's really the 10th chicken, but I was working on my count)? Where could she be? After our duck drama a few weeks ago (see September 24th post) and with all of the eagles, hawks, and owls we have hanging around here (see March 5th post), I started to wonder if something swooped down and grabbed one of our girls for a late afternoon snack. It made me sad. It didn't matter how many times I did my crazy count, I couldn't make a "4" happen.
Then, that's when it started to get really crazy. I started going around the homestead calling for the chicken...you know calling out, "C'mon sweetie", "Here chickie, chickie" in a high-pitched voice for like an hour (OMG, I am turning into one of those crazy chicken ladies!).
I started to make peace with the fact that she probably was in the belly of one of those bald eagles we saw perched up on a cypress tree last weekend. I was very sad. So, in my melancholy state, I started to walk towards the mailbox to retrieve our mail (our mailbox is a quarter-of-a-mile from our house; it's a bit of a hike) and passed one of my neighbors (all of our neighbors are totally cool) who has a couple of chickens (roosters) himself. So I casually asked him how his roosters were doing and if for any reason he had happened to see any of our girls....and you know what? He did. About an hour or so earlier.
Can you believe that happy crap? One of our girls (now named "The Wanderer"...or "Ho-bag" [she was hanging around his roosters]) scrambled--alone--all the way to our neighbor's house (about a quarter-of-a-mile down the dirt road), hung out with his roosters, and then wandered off again. He hadn't seen her for awhile, but he told me that he would give me a call if he did.
About an hour later, he called me back and told me he saw "Ho-bag" scratching around for bugs behind his horse barn. I was so excited. I ran over to his house, gave him a great big hug, and started calling for her (of course she didn't pay any attention to me). So, I dodged huge piles of horse poo to get over to her. Of course as soon as she saw me she squatted for me to pick her up and I carried little "Ho-bag" home.
Happy ending to a crazy little chicken story. Even crazier...we got 11 eggs today!
|Posted by Angie on October 2, 2013 at 10:10 AM||comments (0)|
In our (slow) march to become self-sufficient, we have (finally) installed the water solar panels (that's why we were digging and filling in ditches around here awhile back [see July 19th post]! We will now have water heated by the sun rather than using grid power. One significant step closer to our dream of hippie-dom (well, our version of hippies...we still plan to enjoy our daily bathing and shaving, a good ol' hamburger once in awhile, Netflix, etc., etc.). How exciting! Here are the solar panels:
We decided to put them at the back of the property, behind the chicken coop, rather than on the roof for several reasons:
- We have plenty of space.
- We really didn't want to drill holes into our roof to secure them down (with the rain and hurricanes occuring around here).
- When we build our chicken run (because even though we love that the girls free-range, they are TEARING UP my garden and yard and they shit everywhere [and it's all I can do to keep Daisy and Duke from eating it--which, by the way, Duke is now weighing in at a stout 52 pounds and Daisy is a svelte 47]), the panels will provide the girls/hens some shade.
The panels are passive which means that water (literally) flows through little channels within the panel that is heated by the sun (because they're black and black absorbs heat. Yes, Jeff Foxworthy, I AM smarter than a 5th grader). We are still researching ways we can use the sun to power the house (i.e. the A/C, the microwave, lights, you know, the important stuff...). Like I stated before, this is "our" version of hippie-dom...it may not be yours, but whatever.
Speaking of the hens...OMG, they are still SO CUTE. We can't go anywhere without them following us around. Yesterday, one of them followed me into the house (yes, it was Pinky Tuscadero [see August 17th post]). I wasn't really paying any attention and she just snuck right on in. And while I do love them (and I love collecting fresh eggs...amazingly, we usually get 10 every day. We have some happy girls), I don't want them in my house; I do draw the line somewhere.
What I especially love about the hens is that they don't judge me on the "fabulous" footwear I wear around the homestead. I think I mentioned before that we have special shoes (that we keep in a bin right outside by the backdoor) that we wear in the chicken coop and duck den that are not to be worn--ever--in the house. My super seductive rubber boots (see December 29th, 2012 post) that I bought from Walmart (don't judge me) a while back are in this bin as well as these sexy babies:
And, yes, you are correct...those are Crocs...and they are not even real Crocs...even better, they are the imitation kind. I found them on a clearance rack in the boys' department (yep, at Walmart) for 3 bucks (even my $14 boots can't beat that). And if you look at the picture of my titillating slip-on sandals, the girls even love my shoes.
I mean those hens are the best...they feed me, they love me, and they don't judge me.
|Posted by Angie on September 24, 2013 at 1:35 PM||comments (1)|
I have some really sad news to report from Ginger Goat Farm. One night last week, one of our ducks, Frak, met his untimely death. A bobcat (or what we assume was a bobcat) ripped off Frak's head. Yes, it was as gruesome as it sounds. As a courtesy, I will NOT post any photos of the carnage (but I will repost a few of his baby pictures here...sigh):
Anyway, to make a long story, short (and not too disturbing), the morning after the crime, Billy went out to check on the ducks (like we do every morning). As he walked closer, he noticed only one duck. After he got a little closer to the duck den, he saw Frik literally shaking from fright in one corner and a clump of feathers and blood splattered on the side of their townhouse. Frak's body was still in the duck den--minus his head (and most of his neck)--with blood everywhere. The side of the cage was pretty bowed out from where (again, we assume) Frak stuck his head out and was (probably) "telling" the bobcat who was "boss" around here (between Frik and Frak--Frak was definitely the alpha male). Well, the bobcat didn't want to hear any of Frak's nonsense and ripped (and probably ate) his head right off. Unfortunately (or quite possibly, fortunately), his head is still nowhere to be found.
As you can imagine, poor Frik was wandering around in a catatonic state. He just witnessed the extremely graphic murder of his brother. So for some company, we decided to let him free range with the chicken posse that morning (rather than making him stay in the "House of Horrors"). Remember when I explained that we had to keep the ducks and the chickens separated because the ducks (primarily Frak) kept picking on the hens (see August 29th post)? Well, let me tell you, Frik was the calmest duck I have ever seen. He just wandered around the yard with the chicken posse like he was another hen...he was practically nuzzling (rather than mounting) them.
So after Billy gave Frak a proper memorial (threw some feathers in the pond and turned on the fountain), we decided now is the time to find Frik the long overdue promise of "a fine looking woman" (see July 11th post [Looking for duck love in all the wrong places]). After a few phone calls, we found Frik a mate--Fran.
Cute name, huh? Well, let me explain to you why her name is Fran (and it's not because it sounds cute [Frik and Fran], although it does). Fran has the loudest, most nasal-y sounding quack you have ever heard. If Fran was a person, she would sound (and probably look) like this:
Remember her? If not, click HERE. Her quack almost exactly sounds like that laugh. Honest.
We are not exactly sure if Frik is happier with Fran than with Frak. When Frak was around, Frik was constantly battling Frak being the alpha male (if you know what I mean, wink wink). And now with Fran, he almost seems like one of those old guys you see at a department store with their equally old wives. You've seen them, those old guys walking behind their constantly chattering wives, not listening to a word, just shaking their heads up and down and once in a while they say, "Yes, dear."
That's Frik's life now. He went from swinging bachelor (with a pretty mean roommate [see April 23rd post]) to a settled-down family man. Is that a good or bad thing? I don't know.
All I do know is that things are A LOT calmer around here and that I am grateful that Billy was the one who found Frak.
|Posted by Angie on August 8, 2013 at 2:10 PM||comments (0)|
Life at the farm is as expected in Florida during the (nearly) mid-August weather--again proving my theory that H+P=B/F (see July 11th, "Deep Thoughts While Shoveling Poo" post for full explanation of my H+P=B/F theorem). And my theory is especially true when it comes to the ducks, more specifically the duck shit. Holy Mother-of-God, gnats and flies SWARM around those juicy piles of poo (again, see July 11th post [paragraph 4] for full details on duck poo, a 180 from my duckLING poo assessment [see March 27th post]).
It is amazing that Frik and Frak remain as white as the driven snow while wallowing in their filthy stank. Their cage (oops, I mean their bachelor pad [see April 23rd post]) is beyond ripe...it's vile. Regardless of how many times or how thoroughly we clean it (and we do, EVERY day), it is still just dreadful.
Many people ask us why we still keep Frik and Frak around (or when we are having them for dinner...and when I mean dinner, I don't mean inviting them in for pizza). I don't know, as much as they piss me off (pooping on my sidewalks, harassing the hens, pecking (incessantly) on my front door, following me around then running away when I want to pick them up, etc., etc.), the two of them still have a tender spot in our hearts. I cannot even begin to explain why, but they do.
Daisy also has a tender spot for them in her heart (or maybe she just considers them to be playmates, as Duke tires of her quite easily anymore).
Awhile back, I was concerned that Frik and Frak would gang up on (Crazy) Daisy and goose the shit out of (or kill) her because they were bigger than her. Well, now that she is bigger than the ducks (Daisy is tipping scales at right around 40 pounds, Duke, 43-ish pounds), I thought that she might tear them up (I wasn't so worried about Duke (Hefner [see June 12th post] as he is more interested licking himself [see July 8th post] or napping).
I know it may not be the most responsible "pet-parent" thing to do--letting Daisy and Frik and Frak have their version of the WWE throwdown in our backyard--but seriously, it's kind of fun to watch (so don't report us to PETA or anything). Anyway, the ducks are having just as much fun as Daisy (plus they're working out some of their "frustration" of not having any "fine-looking ladies" living around here [see July 11th, "Looking for Duck Love in all the Wrong Places" post]). Unfortunately, we have not found a suitable match for the boys (well, we found a pair of sisters, but it wasn't a love connection for Frak; he can be quite picky).
So, our evening entertainment around here (after we corral the hen posse back home) is letting the ducks and dogs out and watching them (well, really watching Daisy and the ducks--Duke typically is licking himself or napping) tossle back and forth.
That makes it official....we're country people.