Things don’t always go smoothly on the farm.
Just when our ducks were getting used to being pasture ducks.
Just when they were getting the hang of laying eggs in the duckmobile, so the crows couldn’t get at them.
Most of the time…
Just when egg production was starting to go up again after the shock of being forced out of their orchard home.
Uncle came out one evening to find only six ducks.
There was no pile of feathers to suggest that the missing duck had been attacked. It was just gone. Then, the next morning…
Zero ducks.
One pile of feathers.
A gap under the fence, too small for a coyote, but large enough for a fox or raccoon.
R.I.P. Pasture Ducks. We’ll try again at some point, but right now we have too much going on to brood a clutch of ducklings.
Little Farm in the Big City 