Ev asked me to post the pictures of the project in progress, so here ya go!

First order of business, stocking the beer fridge. Here you can see that Ev has chosen Sierra Nevada IPA as the beverage of choice for building a Duck Dome. Now, it's off to power up the miter saw and cut some wood!



When I got home, Ev had built two sawhorses, assembled the base of the dome and cut most of the remaining 8 foot 2X4's. They still needed to be measured and drilled for the carriage bolts, and then we started to assemble the walls.

Hm.

What odd angles. What counter-intuitive configurations. What peculiar contortions we had to get into to attach things. After getting the first two "walls" attached, we stood back to take a look. Okay, we can totally see where it's going ...

The additional of three more 2x4's made it substantially sturdier, and added to it's whimsical appearance.

With the sun sinking quickly in the west, we got a couple more walls and top rails attached before it got too dark to work, then stood back and said, "It's good! It's big!" We aren't at all sure how we're going to put the roof struts on, since we're very short, but now we know how to build the next structure ... the screened gazebo!

The ducks will have room to put in a second floor entertainment loft, and that'll be nice for them, don't you think?

Duck Blogging

I've been trying to get a good picture of the duckling's new plumage, but it's harder than you think to get ducks to pose for pictures!

The kids have grown by leaps and bounds over the past week. They're very feather-y in the tail area and the tops of their wings, most of them have their breast and belly plumage, and a couple of them have major flight feathers coming in. It's harder to see the cayuga's feathers, since they're replacing black down with black feathers, but the rouens are getting more pretty brown and black feathers every day.

They're also much friendlier and some are downright playful. They'll eat anything out of my hands, and then peck and play with my fingers and my jewelry. They other day they were taking turns getting me to gently hold their bills and pull them around the pool.

This week they figured out how to hop down out of the shed in the morning and let us herd them into the daytime pen instead of having to be ferried there by hand, one at a time. They have no idea about hopping back up into the shed, so going to bed at night was still a matter of carrying them --quacking and peeping and bitching all the way -- until last night. Last night they realized they could hop over the low block walls we put up in the shed to keep them contained, and as fast as I could carry one to the shed another one would hop back out and run out into the yard. I finally chased them all down and pitched them over the fence into the pool again so I could consider my options. I made the executive decision to herd them into their fully-enclosed hutch, which we weren't planning to do yet, and even though it was a little crowded they seemed to fare just fine overnight. Ev did have to get up earlier than she wanted this morning, because they started quacking as soon as they could see the pool in the dawn's early light instead of sleeping in like they were doing in the shed.

Now that they're staying outside all the time I'm a lot more worried about predators. We have just about everything here that likes a nice duck meal, and I'm not going to be any good at all at dealing with what predators leave behind, so I'm trying to figure out how to more fully enclose their pen with some type of screen over the top ( against hawks and owls) and make sure there are no small openings (weasels), latches that can be pried open (raccoons) or screen that can be torn open (foxes and coyotes).

Motherhood is hard and worrisome!

Kwach

Labor ...

The nursery is ready and we're now in the "pacing in the waiting room" stage of duck parenthood.

Doesn't this look comfy? If you were a duckling, wouldn't you be anxious to get here and start eating and drinking and pooping all over the place?

We've done everything we can do to over-prepare for their arrival ... we've got the vitamins in the water, the poultry crumbles in the feeder, the heat lamp and tripod adjusted to achieve the perfect toasty duckling temperature of 97 degrees, and now all we can do is smell the warm pine bedding under their soft cotton blankie and check the caller ID repeatedly to see if we missed a call from the US Postal Service.

Maybe tomorrow ... (sigh)

Ev and I have the rest of the week and the weekend off, so they should hurry up and get here! They're missing out on all this excellent imprinting and spoiling!

Kwach

The Good News and The Bad News

The good news is that the Prodigal Duck has returned from her adventures. The bad news, of course, is that we're STILL on dial up, so there won't be pictures of the joyous reunion. She and the dog have totally bonded. Sage wanders around the yard and the duck waddles along at her heels. When Sage lays down, the duck lays down next to her. When Sage walks down to Carrie's house, the duck walks with her, then waits for her at the door.

While the duck was missing and we were worrying about her safety, I did some reading about ducks so I could be a better duck mother. I found out, among other things, that they need a flock to huddle up with to keep warm and they need a little house to get out of the weather.

So I got the name of a guy who's selling ducks at my work (in case you ever doubted that this was Southern Illinois, the bulletin board by the time clock is all covered with fliers for livestock), and we're going to score a flock for her.

I have another 5 day vacation coming up, in which I WON'T be driving across the country, and I'll build them a little duck house for the winter. I've been learning all about how to heat it (with a light bulb) and what to use for bedding (straw or hay), and I've got a little frame building design in my head. I wonder if they need a window? Maybe a mirror? Frescoes? Gargoyles? I've never really thought about duck decorating and architecture schemes before. Something reflective...I bet ducks like to look at themselves and admire their...duckiness.

Anyway...I've decided I'm a duck person. My totem is a Duck. I'm in touch with my inner duck. See the duck, feel the duck, be the duck...That's my new motto.

I am Duck. Hear me quack.

The Excuse Du Jour

We are on...(dramatic pause)...DIAL-UP!

This is somewhat akin to carving your blog posts into a rock and flinging it into the town square. No pictures, no YouTubes...nuttin'.

If it weren't for the lousy health care I'd begin to doubt we were still in America.

So we've got another week in Old Testament-like exile, doomed to wander the blogosphere on foot until God sees fit to free us, in the form of DSL installation, from this plague.

Oh...and our duck is missing. It's been a bad day. Okay, okay...it's not as bad as having all the firstborn males slaughtered, but did I mention that THE DUCK IS MISSING??

The Duck

This is our new duck. So far, we call it...Duck.

She's apparently a she, according to Lori. I'm not sure how she knows that (Hey! Who's the biologist around here, anyway??). I suspect maybe she looked up under it's feathers or something. Sicko duck fetishist.

The duck came with it's own supply of duck food, but we'll probably supplement with some kind of duck snack that will ultimately make it obese, like all our pets. We're secretly Italian mothers, I think. Food is love.

She seems to be a bright little duck. Don't you think the duck looks wise? She looks like a duck in the know. She possesses the wisdom of the ages...at least for ducks. She sometimes looks over at me and waddles a little faster, glancing over her skinny little duck shoulder to see if I've gone away yet.

We're going to be pals one day. She doesn't know yet that I have animal magnetism, and all animals eventually fall under my spell. Soon, the duck will be sleeping in our bed between Lori and me, fighting with the cats for the coveted position between our heads. But we won't let her sleep on the down pillows...that's too sick, even for us.

Those of you who grew up in Chicago in the 60s...Remember Ray Raynor and Chelveston the duck? Remember their endlessly antagonistic relationship...Ray flinging lettuce at the duck, the duck in full out attack mode, like a shin-seeking missile? Ray backing away rapidly, his voice increasing in pitch until, by the time the Huckleberry Hound cartoon started, Ray's voice could only be heard by dogs and submarine sonar operators?

Well...that's not us. Ray was definitely not an animal person. About the most animal he could stand was that stuffed dog, Cuddly Dudley. If Cuddly Dudley had been a real dog, it would have bitten Ray like every other animal guest on his show.

In an amazing display of Blog Drift...I was telling Lori about Ray Raynor and Frazier Thomas, both of whom probably considered themselves to be serious journalists until they found themselves wearing fezzes and pastel jump suits and talking earnestly to hand puppets and ducks.

Oh, the humanity. I'll bet Ray kicked the duck when no one was looking.

Moving Update

We did it and mostly survived unscathed, with our relationship not only intact but well...enhanced. Satisfied. Sated. Uh...you know. :-)

Saturday we lifted and toted and hauled and carried all our bedroom furniture and most of the contents of the kitchen and bathroom by early evening. We quit at 6 or 7 and sat out on the deck for a while, then Lori walked back down to Carrie's for something and came back to find a medium-sized frog stuck to the glass on the sliding door. As you may know, Lori is a little frog-phobic. However, she only squealed a little delicate ladylike squeal before cautiously edging past it and into the house. Another potential crisis averted.

The only oddness was that the landlords left their pit bull chained up in the yard and their duck, thankfully not on a chain, wandering freely. We kept expecting them to come back for the dog all day Saturday, since Ms. Landlord was reminiscing about the 10 years she'd had the dog, and how fond she was of it.

So we kept working while we kept an eye on him. He was on the kind of a chain you would use to anchor an ocean liner, with a massive bolt attaching it to his collar. Over the last 10 years, he'd dug a trench a foot deep around the tree he was chained to, from pacing laps around it endlessly.
Finally, when it became apparent that they wouldn't be back for him on Saturday, I went out with food and water for him. I'll admit I was a little nervous about getting into his circle, in case he was the kind of territorial pit bull that would want to take my leg off and eat my face. But no; he was the kind of pit bull who was profoundly grateful for a big bowl of water and a mountain of kibble. He inhaled that, and then three more kibble mountains afterwards, until he seemed to be slowing down. Finally, after he'd eaten about 5 pounds of Sage's kibble, I gave him a chunk of fish and he laid down in the shade and fell asleep. Poor guy. They finally came back for him Sunday night.

The duck hasn't required nearly as much intervention. He's been waddling around the yard, snacking on seeds and splashing in his pond, and apparently oblivious to the fact that we aren't the same humans who shared his yard with him last week. He visited the pit bull occasionally but stayed outside the circle.

Lori worked like a demon getting everything unpacked and arranged...and rearranged. And re-rearranged, and I lifted and toted like a good housebutch. Today, my job has been to get the utilities switched over (done that) and knock down the weeks in the yard (haven't done that yet).

Pictures to follow. Thanks for all the good wishes! I think we're doing good. By the end of the week, we ought to be moving faster than a slow shuffle. Or maybe not...we're elderly.