Then There Were Two

It began just over a year ago.

They grew.

Things were going swimmingly.  That is, till the year old boys' hormones kicked in.

Six drakes and two ducks makes for- if you'll forgive the phrase- violence and sloppy seconds.  The girls were abused, stressed out.  They stopped laying eggs. 

Not only that, the boys were fighting amongst themselves.  Thuggary.  Missing feathers.  Unpleasantness all around.

Sometimes homesteading gets gritty.  Five of the six drakes were dispatched. The best time to process a duck is when they first feather at about six months.  At that point, they have tender meat and nice juicy baby fat. 

Year old ducks are a bit leaner.  Still, quite tasty.

Which drake was spared the roasting pan, you ask?  The one that was most vigilant.  When the flock separated, he would stand in between the two groups and keep an eye on both at the same time.  Happy bonus.  He's the prettiest drake.




















Then there were three,  Poofhead and the two girls: little white duck and little brown duck.

 Then, more trouble.  The remaining ducks got just a bit too free in their free ranging.  They wandered into the woods.  There are predators lurking there.  Poofhead failed in his vigilance.

Then there were two.  From now on, free range is only a memory.