Whistler Ducks

My mother sent me this photo of Whistler (or Goldeneye) Ducks. Aren't they cute??

And Now There Are Six...

Well, yesterday I went down to gather eggs and I only counted six. When I went to feed them in the evening, there were only six. This morning I went down, and again, six. I am afraid to say that someone else has met their maker. At least, I am hoping, it was quick and painless. Amazingly, it wasn't our lame duck, who has some weird inflammation on her left foot. She's a tough bird. And surprisingly, it wasn't one of the males. We've lost two layers in a week! Where are the males protecting the females, I want to know. I can only figure that what happens is a female sits on her nest and is reluctant to get up and therefore loses her life protecting her eggs. So now we have four females and two males. I am wondering if I should start locking them up at night. The reason why I haven't is because they refused to. Maybe they have changed their mind. I figure it was a fox or coyote.

And Then There Were Seven...

Well, this is a sad post to make. Yesterday morning while gathering eggs we couldn't find number eight. Which happens, so we didn't worry too much. We thought someone found a very clever new nesting spot and was well hidden from egg-eating eyes. I got home from work not thinking of it, hearing Steve mowing the lawn by the pond. By and by, I realized the mower was off and there was no accompanying "clank!" that would indicate a stop in the great American past time. The silence lingered, so I went down to find out what it was. Was it a new animal sighting? A heron amidst the ducks? The kingfisher chattering around chased by an oriole? A snapping turtle out of water in all its algae-ed glory? It was eerily quiet and I found Steve at Duck Beach. He said he found number eight. She was badly mangled; her leg had been severely mauled. Steve had to do the brave thing and send her to her maker. This is life and death on the farm. We lost a good duck.

Eggs!

Okay, I've been pretty much waiting for duck eggs for almost a year now. And they are here! The ones on the right are some of our first duck eggs. They are slightly gray.

The Big Thaw

Once the pond thawed out the ducks took to it, well, like ducks to water! It was such a wonderful thing to see them slowly explore it. They are so much more confident now. I guess it helps that there is food in them there waters. We wonder if the fish population will take a nosedive this summer. What are those ducks eating, we wonder? Fish eggs? Vegetation? Anything they can get their bills on? Probably all of the above. Do you know that ducks eat mud?

Now the ducks are two males and six females. They are a strong group but show some signs of individuality. One male has a yellower bill than the other. The darker billed constantly reminds the yellow billed that he is the lesser of the two. I see them playing though, and ganging up on the females when it comes to mating. Always a disturbing sight, but hey, that's what animals do. The females are an interesting lot, too. One female always does her own thing. Preferring to sit out on group activities and preen instead. I can't tell them apart, but there's another female that nips the others when there is food involved. I will chance a guess that it's the same one that comes running first when I sing out, "Lettuce!" They say that ducks will eat many different kitchen scraps but with these ducks it's only lettuce. Nothing else will do.

Duck beach in the winter

Duck beach didn't look very much like a beach anymore. When it was very cold the droplets of water that normally "roll off a duck's back" would turn into little pellets of ice.

Winter slowed us all down

The snow was deep and confusing for our webbed wonders and we had a few mishaps. We now have eight ducks. Two we think we lost to foxes and one was badly hurt during what we think was either a dog or coyote attack. Nonetheless, the ducks would very often not come back to the barn to sleep and would stay out all night! The nerve.



It got very tiring going down to let them out and lock them in every night in the deep drifts of snow. I grumbled a lot, but I also found the beauty in clear cold nights that I wouldn't otherwise be out in. The stars are particularly beautiful and of course no one else is outside, so it's very quiet.