love at first quack

A couple of weeks ago I found out that my ducks passed away. It has taken me this long to be able to sit down (without getting overly emotional- pathetic i know) to write a memorial to my little foster duckies. These ducks were very special to me. Not just pets. But two little guardian angels who dropped into my life during a time when I really needed to be reminded of the simpler things in life. Finding out they were gone was not on my to-do list, not really what I wanted to hear. But for everything there is a season, a purpose under heaven. The bible assures us of that. And for my furry friends, their season on earth had ended. I was at a Junior Woman's Club meeting when I found out. We were talking about the "duck race" for the annual Duncan Hines Festival. The club members sell ducks forms aka raffle tickets. Then during the festival the ducks (note: they are pretend plastic ducks) race. The 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners get cash prizes. One of the members joked that we could bring real ducks to the festival. A few people who knew I had the ducks said "ashley should bring her ducks!" I informed everyone that I had taken the ducks to a farm. The lady whose parents had "adopted" my ducks was there and ironically , she was in charge of selling the ducks forms. I could tell by the look on her face that she has some news for me and it wasn't good. Long story short, she informed me that Mick and Jagger had been killed, probably by coyotes. She said her parents, especially her dad "the duck whisperer", were very sad. Don't worry, my boss already pointed out the irony that I was at a meeting about duck races, getting my duck forms from the friend who'd adopt them, and then found out my live ducks had died. It's not funny, my friends. Ironic, yes but not funny.

The story of the ducks is one that I will always look back on and smile because it happened very unexpectedly. I didn't plan to ever own a duck. My journey with MickDuck and JaggerDuck really is serendipity. I woke up one day expecting a quiet day and went to bed thinking the day had been anything but quiet. My friend Laura called me up the Saturday before Easter and said "do you want to go with me to buy ducks?" Most people would have replied with a question, thinking it was strange that their friend wanted to buy ducks. But since I love being spontaneous I enthusiastically said "yes! of course! where and when?" Off we went to Tractor Supply Company. I didn't plan to purchase any ducks for myself. But seeing all of those people getting the ducks without purchasing any supplies made me convince myself that I had to "rescue" at least two. I know it was probably ridiculous of me to think I was honestly rescuing baby ducks, but I really did think I was saving them from people who wouldn't take care of them. So three hours and $56.29 later I had two ducks, one metal "habitat", an extra bag of wood chips, a medium size bag of duck food, a watering contraption, and a heat lamp. I spent an entire Saturday afternoon setting up the duck habitat in my guest bedroom in my house. Why the guest bedroom? Well because they were essentially guests and didn't they deserve a bedroom to themselves? I had been listening to The Rolling Stones all day so naturally I pointed at one duck and said "you shall be called Mick" and then turned to the other and said "you shall be called Jagger." They quacked, which to me was affirmation that they liked their names.

The next day Easter came and I took the itty bitty babies to my family get-together. It was a surprise for my cousins. Everyone agreed that Mick and Jagger really were the hit of the day. It was so wonderful to watch the children go from giddy excitement and fear of the creatures to calming down to a time of pleasant contentment--embracing them, cradling them in their arms. Easter, as in most holidays, came and left all too soon. That Monday I quickly realized that while I bought them to bring joy on Easter, I now had to fulfill my commitment to raising them until they could go to a farm.

It was not an easy road with Mick and Jagger. They took up a lot of my time, and turned this jet setting, always on the go girl into quite a homebody. I loved every minute of it though. One of my friends asked me quite bluntly, "why do you like those things living with you? Aren't they annoying" Quite simply, it was a taste of motherhood, a glimpse into a future that I hope includes a child (make no mistake- like in 10 years though). Feeding them multiple times a day, changing their diapers (ok, just the wood chips but this is where they relieved themselves), and rocking them to sleep in my hammock outside. My favorite part of raising them was the time at night they'd spend with me. The two of them would follow me everywhere, in single file. They would try to run as fast as their little webbed feet could take them, to catch up with me. I don't care for the word precious, because I think it's overused. But let me assure you that if their ever was a time to use the word precious, it is now. It was precious.

Alas, the day came sooner than I expected to put Mick & Jagger up for "adoption." They grew, and grew, and grew. What I had been informed would take 10 weeks actually took 3. My little overachievers were flying the coop, trying to leave home sooner than I'd expected. I'd get home from work and much to my surprise (and admittedly, delight), my furry little roommates would meet me at the door. It was time for the ducks to move from their foster home to their forever farm. I lucked out when my friend Tammy suggested that Mick and Jagger move to her parents place. It was paradise. I knew they'd be happy with a big pond, horse friends, and wide open spaces to roam. I hoped deep down they'd miss me and wouldn't forget me, but I knew I couldn't be selfish (or silly) and try to keep them in my city casa. I still know it was the right decision. I know they lived a good life, although shorter than I hoped, still a good life.


I may not have the desire to go to a turkey farm this Thanksgiving to purchase a mascot for the holiday (something tells me that turkeys will be a wee bit more high maintenance than the ducks were). Let me assure you though that when Easter rolls around again next year, you may find me leaning over a box in the middle of Tractor Supply Company, straining to hear which ducks seem to have a rock and roll inspired quack.