Miss Mae's Duck Addiction

As a preface to this blog post, I would like to introduce our dog, Maggie Mae. For those of you who aren't acquainted with Maggie, she is our 9 year old border collie, black lab, pomeranian mix. We adopted her about a year and half ago from a rescue organization in Portland called The Pixie Project. If you are looking to adopt a dog or cat in the Portland-Metro area, I highly recommend them. The first month that Maggie lived with us, she spent 95% of her time hiding in a cardboard box in our living room. The other 5% was spent eating and going for walks. Little by little she came out of her shell and we were able to discard the cardboard box as she eventually opted to sleep on some blankets next to our bed. Maggie was a pretty good city dog. She was mindful of cars, got excited about but didn't chase squirrels and was great at running next to a bike without a leash. Maggie was a good city dog, but what we learned after moving to the farm, is that she is an awesome country dog. And a duck addict.

One of my favorite parts of the day happens between 9 and 9:30 in the morning....Duck Time! Letting the ducks out of the duck house is hilarious. They have been cooped up in their house for 12-13 hours and they are ready to be out. As soon as they hear me yell, "Get the ducks, Mae", the quacking starts. Maggie and I make our way into the duck yard and I walk up the ramp to the duck house. At this point, the quacking has become deafening. I yell a loud, "Good Morning" to the ducks and throw open the large, metal door. The stampede begins. It's duck insanity for 30 seconds as they pour out of the duck house. Feathers flying, ducks barreling over each other, ducks flying into the metal guardrail, ducks crash landing on the grass...and then it's quiet again. The ducks settle into their morning routine of chowing on bugs, taking a dip in the pond, waddling about and ruffling their feathers and I can begin the egg hunt. We have approximately 50 ducks and on any given day I will collect between 8 and 35 eggs. Each nesting box is checked by hand, sometimes revealing one egg, sometimes seven eggs and sometimes all I come out with is a handful of duck poop. Ducks are some of the dirtiest creatures I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. More than once, I have seen a duck jump into the feed box, poop, jump back out and then turn around and eat it. Same goes for their watering troughs. Poop doesn't phase ducks one bit. After my morning egg collection and feeding of the ducks is over, I'm done with them for the day, except for occasionally yelling, "Get the ducks", to Maggie and watching her sprint frantically towards the duck yard and then stare, crazy-eyed, through the fence until we call her off or something more exciting, like a cat, walks onto the scene.

Sunset brings another round of duck action. Maggie barrels out ahead of me as I head towards our duck friends. She sprints the fenceline as she waits for me to open the gate. Once the gate is open she runs inside and begins herding the ducks. I go about my business of re-filling the water and food and doing one last egg check. Then, it's Maggie's time to shine. I step out of the duck house and watch as she does her very best to herd the ducks up the ramp so I can close them in for the night. 20% of the time she does it all by herself. The other 80% I am obliged to jump down and assist her by running around, flapping my arms and yelling various, helpful, phrases to entice the ducks to hurry up and get into their house so I can go back to mine. And then they're in! Depending on how quickly and easily they were put up I either slam the lock shut and yell "Lock Down!" or I sing them a little song, much like I used to sing to my chicken, Bernadette. Maggie and I bid the ducks a good night and head for home, already anticipating the fun to be had when we start all over again tomorrow.