The Hatching

One of the first things I did when we moved to our farm was order baby ducks from Southern States. I have always loved ducks and since there was a small pond behind the barn next to the house, I just thought we had to have ducks. Fortunately they came "sexed" so we ordered two pairs. (Evidently, determining the sex of baby chickens and ducks is somewhat of an art.) With that, we became the proud owners of a pair of Pekings (white) and a pair of mallards (brown female and green headed male). We didn't realize that the mallards could fly but the Pekings couldn't. This led to some hilarious moments with the white ducks running across the field trying to keep up with the mallards. That is until one day the male mallard didn't come home.

That left us with one proud male white duck with his "flock", one white and one brown. For some reason the little female mallard was quite content to be part of his harem and didn't fly away. Spring came and the two females started to make nests and lay eggs. They knew enough to stay away from the too exposed pond banks and attached themselves to the flower beds in the yard. I guess they realized the dogs would keep the raccoons and weasels away and they would be safer. Ducks are a lot smarter than chickens. What this also did was give us a ringside seat for duck watching. The little mothers became quite accustomed to having kids squatting beside them watching every move.

The morning came when one of the kids noticed that the mallard's eggs were hatching. We all sat intently watching as the mother duck nestled on the nest, checking occasionally to see how her newly hatching babies were doing. It wasn't long before she decided that all had hatched that were going to (several eggs were left in the nest. ). She waddled off the nest and proceeded to march to the pond. Strung out behind her came her ten little baby ducks, eight yellow babies and two brown babies.

When she reached the pond she plopped into the water and swam serenely off. As each baby reached the shore they plopped in and started swimming. Only minutes old and they were as graceful as could be. We all clapped and cheered with tears in our eyes at this amazing sight. It was a Norman Rockwell moment when I knew that farm life was the greatest thing on earth.

As we watched the mother duck turned and proceeded to swim down the line of ducklings checking the eight little yellow ducklings and two little brown ducklings, which were last. As she reached the last two little brown babies, she reached over and used her head to push them under the water. She then turned and swam back to the head of her line. The little brown babies popped to the surface like little corks and cheeping frantically hurried to catch up with their siblings. She repeated this maneuver two more times before it sunk in on us that she really was trying to drown them! In her duck sized brain these two little ducks didn't look like the others and she was trying to remove them! All of a sudden the moment was more Steven King than Norman Rockwell.

Soon the kids and I were running frantically around the pond trying to rescue the two babies. Fortunately it wasn't a very large pond so we were finally able to separate them from the others and herd them to the bank. It was heartbreaking to watch these little babies try so hard to keep up with the other ducklings, cheeping pitifully the entire time. At no time did the mother duck show any interest in the fate of these babies as we grabbed them. She herded the other eight as far from us as she could and looked smug. I never did like that duck after that.

We raised those two little ducks in a pen in the yard until they were big enough that the mother duck was no longer a threat to them. As they grew up they decided that my daughter was their mother. They would follow her around the yard, running to her and trying to get under her if they felt threatened. They went to the garden with her when she picked beans and ate bugs and worms to our delight. They grew up to look very much like their mallard mother and eventually joined the flock on the pond. They seemed to be content with their life, but we were traumatized for months by the events on the pond bank that sunny spring day. A lesson learned...life isn't always Normal Rockwell.