
Some of you may recall from the last blog post that my weekend assignment included tending a friend’s chickens and ducks. Dog and cat, too.
It is now time to report back.
I have thought long and hard about the many ways we humans can tell a story. Many people might tell the fowl story this way: I spent the weekend feeding and watering my friend’s animals. It was very interesting and kinda fun. #end of story#
However, I almost always prefer to tell stories the way I experience ’em. Which often contains a bit of eye-rollin’ drama, just because that’s the way this mind tells stories.
Ready? Shake a tail feather and let’s get movin’.

My friend said the chickens and ducks “put themselves to bed”. You just have to arrive between 8:15 and 8:30 and the chickens will already be a’roostin’. Close the chicken coop doors and everything will be fine until the rooster crows in the morning.
Unfortunately, I do not know how to follow instructions and am always early for everything. Left the house at 7:30 p.m. on a rain-threatening Friday night and proceeded to do chores. Fed the dog his antibiotic. Cat food out–check. Chickens settled on their roosts. Check and double-checked doors. All was well in hen-land.
Now time to make sure the ducks waddle into the duck house. C’mon, ducks. In you go. Be good fowl. Go inside. The wind is picking up: looks like it’s gonna rain. In you guys go.

Ten minutes later.
Please ducks. Please go in your house. Don’t keep wandering around quacking and shaking your feathers. (I try to herd them in. It’s gonna start pouring any minute. They totally ignore me. They run in the opposite direction. There is no WAY those ducks are going to do anything normal–like bed down for the night.) Herding ducks is like herding cats. They don’t herd.
In their defense, it was only 7:45 and my friend had said–you remember, don’t you?–the ducks don’t go to bed until 8:15 to 8:30.

I kept eyeing the darkening sky. My insides started shaking. Finally perched myself on top of a stump and waited.
Oh look–one duck waddled inside the house. No, here she comes outside again. Three ducks in, two ducks out. Please, please, please ducks just go to bed before the downpour starts.
A half hour on a stump seemed like six lifetimes. I imagined sitting out in the wind-howling pouring rainstorm on the stump for the rest of my life. In fact, my life flashed before my eyes in that half hour. I was going to be a total failure at duck-sitting. And how many duck did she say there were anyway? What if four of the ducks never came home to sleep? Would I be a duck-killer and never trusted for such a fowl assignment again?
At 8:20 the ducks turned, looked at me smugly (I’m sure they did–one even snubbed her beak at me saying, “See who’s boss?”), and nonchalantly walked into their nighttime home.
Success! (The storm took out our electricity and knocked down trees everywhere, especially in town. The ducks and chickens slept soundly. I didn’t.)

Next morning–fed those happy well-slept chickens and ducks. Pulled up one of our broccoli plants and offered the little peckers nourishing greenery. Harvested eight eggs. Talked nicely to the girls. (The blurry fella in above photo is the rooster. He apparently didn’t want to be photographed. More about that in a moment.)
Chores finished–back home. In the middle of the afternoon, when the light seemed promising for fowl fotagraphy I returned with camera.
Turns out the chickens were traumatized (I am SURE they were traumatized!) by my camera clicking. Look at the following photo.

All the hens ran away, bunched up around their protective rooster, attempting to save themselves from the evil camera. They looked at me with scared chicken eyes, begging a quick retreat.
Please get away, evil photographer, bad camera.
“I have traumatized the chickens,” my inner storyteller mumbled. “First the ducks traumatize me–now I’ve traumatized the chickens.”
(Those of you who might not have active inner story-tellers might tell the story thus: I tried taking pictures of the chickens but they temporarily scurried away.)
Probably, in reality, no one was traumatized. But it’s the way this mind thinks!

The ducks didn’t seem traumatized. They did look leerily at the camera and kept waddling away.
“No photos today,” quacked one duck, but I ignored him.
“Photos today,” said I, “unless you want to be duck soup tomorrow!”

We shall end the story with this duck–a Brazilian species, mind you–quietly preening her feathers.
No one permanently traumatized, not even me. A successful quiet (but interesting) weekend with feathered fowl. Hope you enjoyed this little story!
I’m glad you’re not someone who tells stories the first way. Thanks for making me smile and laugh this morning π
I am so glad you laughed. I love when you laugh! π
Sounds like fun! You did tell a good story, creative and in the moment filled with concern, humor, and happy ever after….
Thank you so much, dear Jeff. It makes me feel so happy to write stories like these…even if they may be slightly dramatic. Tee hee.
I’m laughing. Not at you, of course not my dear Kathy. I’m laughing WITH you. You’re laughing, right? You tell a GREAT story. You are a story-teller extraordinaire. Well done. You have also convinced me to never ever offer to ‘babysit’ ducks or chickens. Ever. xo
I am STILL laughing, Pamela, and am very very very very very glad that YOU laughed too! It is so fun to write stories, isn’t it? We both love to. So much. As to babysitting the fowl…you might want to reconsider. You could probably write a doozy of a story about it too!
Nope, I cannot and will not compete with your not-so-fowl (and in fact crowingly fine) chickennduck story. π
You could compete, my friend, you could TOTALLY compete! But, hmm, there’s too much competition these days. You could–whazz the word?–you could enhance the fowl story-telling world. tee hee, I mean cluck-cluck.
See?? I can’t compete with that!!! xoxoxo
LOL!
Bravo! I would entrust my anumal.with you any day! XOXO
Do you have animals, Stacy? Chickens? Ducks? Dogs? Cats? I found this to be quite an adventure!
I have a very loving dog. We tried our hand at a couple.of ducks, but that didn’t end well. My dream animals are a goat (for milk) and a sheep (so that I can spin my own yarn). I do love animals and usually prefer their company to that of humans.
And can you get these animals in the near future? Or do you live somewhere where they’re not allowed? I can imagine you being very sweet with your animals.
Cheers to telling a story the way it should be told, with whatever embellishments might seem right. Chickens are at least in a cage, so how far can they go? Ducks, however – seem to be a bit more independent. Hostile maybe even. Or at least sassy.
I am still chuckling, Carol. Thanks for reading and appreciating the embellishments that my inner storyteller can’t seem to help making up. You are right–the chickens are in a cage, so they’re pretty controllable. (Although these particular chickens used to be free range.) The ducks are sassy. Yes. That’s a perfect word for it. Independent quackers.
Aww, how sweet! I really love the story that your pictures tell about your lives.
Thank you so much, Jessica! It was fun to write this and take pics of the ducks and chickens.
Love every feather of this! Laughed so hard practically all the way through. I am sure all the creatures appreciated your caretaking, and now you have made them all famous, as well. Best story teller ever!
You are making me laugh out loud now, Susan Dee! I just knew you would get a chortle (a quack-up) out of this! ha ha ha
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha…we watched the neighbors’ chickens for a couple weeks this summer. There were 12 chickens and one mean rooster. I worried that I wouldn’t be able to get them all in at night too, what if I couldn’t find them all? But they all came running in the evening because she gave them treats then. That sort of worked. The rooster was still trying to attack us. Finallywe figured out if we held a broom they all moved quite quickly, single file, into the coop! π π π We didn’t have any ducks though, they sound stubborn.
Dawn, I remember you talked about the mean rooster and even warned me! Glad your chicken came running and didnβt act like those diva ducks. The broom is a brilliant idea.
Wonderful story! I’ve had quite a day, but sometime I’ll tell you about my horse-sitting adventure!
I am glad you enjoyed, Cindy! Did you blog about your horse-sitting adventure? If so, would love to read it. Hope you slept tight after your day.
What a fun story. Animals are cool in this way, arenβt they? They just do as they like, even if it causes us grief sometimes. I think it is super nice of you to do these tasks for your friend and happy you were not soaked!
Thank goodness it didn’t start pouring rain until later! It was an interesting weekend, and so fun to tell the story.
It was so nice to see the ducks. We thought about getting some when there were 800 bullfrogs on our garden but Father said that will poison the ducks.
Oh my! I didn’t know that bullfrogs could poison ducks. Learning so much!
Such a fun story Kathy, I laughed out loud at the though of running around trying to herd ducks. I hope you get the chance to look after them again.
Bright Blessings
Tilly, glad you enjoyed the duck and chicken saga! Yes, would definitely watch after those birds again. π
“The ducks and chickens slept soundly. I didnβt.”
Made me laugh with the story. Why not have fun talking about what went wrong? That’s why we blog, right!
Ally Bean, I think sharing what went wrong is sometimes the funniest part. I had a blast writing this post.
I did enjoy this story! In fact I was laughing out loud about the ducks refusing to go bed until the appointed time and then about the chickens retreating from your clicking camera, and Tim wondered what was so darned funny. Well, when I told him and showed him the picture of the chicken huddle he had a good laugh, too. Thanks for letting your inner storyteller tell the tale! And the pictures are icing on the cake.
I am glad you (and Tim) thought it was funny, too, Barbara–I am still laughing days later! Haven’t had such a giggle writing a blog post in some time. (And the pics didn’t turn out half bad either, thank you chickens & ducks!)
Thanks for sharing this blog such an funny blog
*smiling* Thank you!! It was fun to write.
This post makes me happy. I dramatize the antics of my birds too. All my birds are drama queens. Even the boys!
I love the chicken kiss photo!
I’ll bet you know a lot about chickens, Lunar! Smiling about your drama queens–it makes life fun to dramatize (except sometimes I have to tell myself to STOP!) Thank you for liking the chicken kiss photo. Me too.
It’s so funny! I don’t know ’til now that chicken n duck eat broccoli plant!
My friend said they need to eat some greens. Grass would do–but they like broccoli a lot. Thank you!
Well, now that you’ve had the experience, are you thinking of getting some fowl of your own? I was chuckling, Kathy. I love the hens kissing!
Glad you chuckled, Barb, and that you liked the hen-kissing picture, too. I couldn’t believe the camera caught that! As for getting some fowl…so way. Never. Ever. Ever. π
I so love your way of telling the story, Kathy… it is far more interesting this way! I’d say good jobs on duck sitting and chicken sitting! Who knew that ducks don’t herd?! I always learn something new when I visit your blog.
Gosh that was such a fun weekend, Reggie. And even more fun writing this blog post! tee hee….love writing stories about “ordinary” things and making them sparkle with magic.
I never properly addressed this blog! It was fun! And you know me I have loved all our chickens and ducks (the comediennes of the poultry world – yuk yuk yuk yuk). Your photos are great!! One thing about chickens…they never go to bed before they are ready (can’t see) and if you start too soon you’ll get in trouble! If it’s almost too dark for us to see them they’ll be tucked away ready for the door to be closed. Ducks on the other hand had us chasing them around like a Groucho Marx movie.
Ruth, I thought so much about you during my weekend with the chickens and ducks. Thought how much YOU would know about tending them. Laughing that you found ducks could not be herded, either. Chasing them around like a Groucho Marx movie–how funny! (We are still eating eggs from our weekend adventure.) Thanks for coming back and sharing your poultry thoughts. π