So there I was…. you can already tell this will be a good story! All great stories begin with the old age “so there I was”.
So there I was in my bathrobe, hair a wreck from restless sleep, enjoying the quiet sunrise of an early morning. There is nothing better than watching the sun rise from its slumber. As you yourself are waiting for the sweet nectar of those magical beans to brew ahh a perfect morning.
Suddenly the tranquility is broken by disturbed hens alarmed by an intruder. The dogs already alerted are running to the run. I squint trying to see what is wrong… my glasses are in the bathroom and of course are necessity at this moment.
Clutching my robe closed I put on whatever footwear is left at the back door. Flip flops won. Trudging through the cool dew soaked grass I see three blurry fur balls. One, a new blur, is chasing a small white blur while my two blurry dogs are running block keeping it away from the blur I believe to be one of my young Pekins.
While our dogs are occupying this intruder I am able to scoop up the poor duck and get it in the run. I see this intruder is the neighbors young pup who feels it’s play time and has no need to go home.
Our dogs of course join in the fun of play time as they see their job is done… so I’m hollering at our dogs to go back home, still clasping my robe for dear life, and trying to keep from braking my ankle in the now slippery death traps on my feet.
Now enter the neighbor coming to retrieve his pup. It turned into a whole mess of dogs not listening to anyone. Dogs running in circles, me clutching my robe, frustrated by the whole ordeal, I finally get ahold of Charlie, our youngest fur child.
Enter Rooster, who looks annoyed, gets the dogs to listen with ease and gets them in the house. Ugh. I feel ridiculous standing there in my robe, hair a wreck, holding a sandal that I had used to unsuccessfully get our dogs attentions.
I head back into the house for my much needed glasses and magical bean juice.
Fast forward to after breakfast when morning choring is done. I get water for the little chics in the coop, and feed. I grab a pail of feed for the ducks and chickens and throw it in the run. As I go to grab the buckets that need refilled with water I see something odd. That white duck is way smaller than I thought.
Wait, what? Thelma, Louise, one, two, three, four, and a tiny duck. My brain clicks into gear and realizes that none of my ducks were lose, and couldn’t have been. This miniature version of my Pekins must be one of the neighbors roaming call ducks. Sweet Jesus I feel dumb.
The phone tree is sprung into action. First, the neighbor who on previous occasions has said “oh, their neighborhood ducks we just let them free range”. P.S. this always pisses me off because one that’s not what free range means, and two maybe I don’t want your damn hippy critters in my yard as I have enough to keep track of. Besides all that the neighbor in question is a quarter of a mile down the road, and apparently gives two shits about where their critters go.
The hippy simply replies “They aren’t mine”. Ugh… now the next neighbor I know has call ducks… I actually like this lady and she’s a hot mess like me so I can see how her call duck got lose and is over here.
“I don’t think it’s mine. I didn’t notice anyone missing this morning.”
Are you kidding me? Out of the twelve people in this town only two of which keeps call ducks, and neither of them are claiming this one. FML
At this point I’ve now resigned to the idea that I now have a call duck. She’s getting along fine with everyone and it is adorable.
Fast forward to when hot mess gets off of work and realizes it probably is her call duck. An exchange of texts asking certain details of said duck, and a little banter she says she’ll be over in a bit to check.
“You’re not home”
“Yes I am.”
“F*** I’ll turn around”
“I’ll go outside LOL”
Here she comes, my favorite neighbor, driving the gator. I chuckled to myself as I realized this adds to our critter encounters together. She asks after the pig, and critters and makes small talk. She tells me her husband drug home two geese, the two she told me about for sale at the local farm store.
“Now there’s goose shit EVERYWHERE!” She exclaims. “Back steps. Goose shit. Drive way. Goose shit. Everywhere goose shit!” She’s animated as she’s explaining the situation with the goose shit, and I can’t help but to laugh.
We enter the run, her in her crocs, me in my muck shoes, and we round up the call duck. We talk about how many of her escaped critters have been found or saved by us, and she thanks me again. Just a few days prior I had called that her dog was in the road. Call tucked under her arm she drives away in the gator.
Left alone to tend to our flock I think to myself how cute that duck was. The stray thought of having call ducks enters my mind. I shake the thought away as I tell myself they’re not in the plan of sustainability, and laugh to have even had the thought. We have enough going on.
Meanwhile I’ve received a call from day care, the youngest doesn’t feel well. I picked him up and discovered he has a fever, call the pediatrician, and head to the big city. Viral infection. So a few rounds of puking and diarrhea later the poor thing is tucked into bed.
As I call it a night I can only hope that tomorrow is less chaotic.
So, when life throws you lemons… remember to live a simple life, and make some lemonade.