The Saga Continues…
Hey Guys! Hope everyone is doing well! Last time I told you about the miscommunication that led to the purchase of our first three ducks. Today, I’m going to talk about my husband’s response to walking into a house of screaming ducklings and the acquisitions that completed our little flock.
So, as you can imagine, my husband was very confused when he came home from work and saw three fluffy little ducklings staring back at him (especially when he left the conversation the night before thinking we were getting ducklings in a few weeks; not the next day). Fortunately for me, he was willing to give this madness a go. He helped me set up the brooder in our garage (score one for Rubber Maid totes!) and get everything situated. Unfortunately for him, I am an admitted bleeding heart and got nervous about them spending their first night in the garage without quadruple checking that it was secure enough for three little ducklings to live without being eaten by the local cats and raccoons. It was decided (without much input from my poor husband) that the ducklings would spend their first night in our possession in our bathroom.
I learned two very important lessons that night. The first was that the dog was not ready for the mental stimulation of knowing that something she REALLY wanted was on the other side of the bathroom door. The second (and more important) was that I had married a saint the month before. Yes, I bought these ducklings less than a month and a half into our marriage. My husband wasn’t even completely moved in yet. After an extremely sleepless night, we survived the first night of owning ducklings; which were promptly moved into the garage after no further discussion.
The first two weeks of having ducklings were a definite learning curve. I quickly realized I should have done more research prior to their purchase, but we made it work. While purchasing pine shavings at my local Tractor Supply, I overheard two employees talking about the fact they planned on euthanizing a duckling due to it “being weird” at the end of the shift. When I interrupted and asked what was wrong, they said they didn’t know but it “wasn’t worth the effort” involved in caring for it.
Me being the bleeding heart, but knowing I had made a mistake the few weeks before by buying without asking, I called my husband. I explained the situation and was genuinely open to the answer of “no”. Surprisingly, he said to ask more questions and to get the sick duckling if it wouldn’t cause the first three to get sick. The employees stated they had a store policy of not allowing single sales of ducks (despite me essentially doing them a favor and taking a duck they were planning on euthanizing), so we purchased the sick duckling and the companion in the back; not knowing their breeds, genders, or what was wrong with the poor thing. At this point, the original three ducklings were big enough to be in a dog exercise pen, so the two newest ducklings went into the Rubber Maid tote as a makeshift quarantine. I immediately hit the internet and quickly discovered that the duckling was suffering from a common nutritional deficiency called Wry Neck. This issue is often curable or manageable with proper nutrition and care, so our journey began.
I consulted the amazing poultry lady at the original feed store and asked if she had experience in treating Wry Neck and fortunately, she did. Thus began a few weeks of extra vitamins and supplements for the newly named Lucky and companion Blue; while we figured out the extent of the deficiency and deficits Lucky would have. Lucky would go on to almost completely recover from the Wry Neck, and to become the namesake of our little farm.
So now that you guys know the story of how we got started, drop a comment below and let me know how you got into homesteading; and remember, “Life’s Just Ducky”!