The Country Mice

These Indian Runner ducks we have possess no individuality.

Plenty of personality but nothing unique to set them apart from the flock.

Our chickens, on the other foot hand (sorry), distinctly differentiate themselves from one another. Bossy, timid, tame, skittish — every hen and rooster has a distinct manner of behaviour within the flock. And as they all look different, it’s easy to tell who’s who.

Not so with the quackers.

They all look different but it doesn’t matter. They think, move, eat and waddle as one giant peer group.

I put out a pan of water. One dunked her head. Another dunked her head. A third dunked his head.

One started preening, rubbing her head on her back. The other two followed suit.

And it doesn’t take a lot of water to make them happy. A pan of water works, a puddle of water works, dew on the morning grass works, freshly fallen snow works. We have a pond but at present the pond has no appeal.

It’s a ducky-see ducky-do kind of world.

And they’re not competitive (Now, chickens? They’re competitive) as in, “I can stand on one leg which twisting my head backwards on to my back. Can you?”

No. It’s more like, “Hey, Doreen! Check out this new move from yoga! Twist your neck twice and put your head upside down under your wing and hold your breath.”

“Oh, honey, you’re so cute. Let’s go get a bite somewhere, okay?”

Always together, always supportive. Remind me of my aunt and uncle. A nice thought.

And now, a nice shake, a shiver from beak to tail, a rustle and a ruffle of feathers, a shimmy and a fluff and ahhhh.

On their way again.

“Come on, Doreen. Let’s go!”