Duckness

I'm realizing--again--that while I love being home, summers at home are lonely. At least I had something to study last year, but the MCAT has come and gone and I don't even have a job to keep me distracted. I'd be leaving too soon to have one/I'm gone most weekends/there's nowhere to work around here--but still. I'm basically useless and I hate it. (Oh, I took Mary Ellen back to Morgantown for a day. That was...enlightening. Apparently the older generation doesn't realize that racial slurs aren't appropriate anymore. I just about died.)

But, on the other hand...this is the Summer of the Ducks. There are eight of them, now, all growing fast and completely lovable. I realize that most people don't know what it feels like to have little bills nibbling your toes, or fingers, or shirt hems, and you guys are all missing out.

Home sweet chicken house-thing.

They got put out in the playhouse for the first time last night. They'll be warm, because I rigged a heat lamp, and they have our half-grown chickens for company (which is not appreciated by either party). I was outside, trying to convince them that they wanted to be outside too--but they took their own sweet time coming out. They do this little belly-surfing thing, when they're not sure they want to be somewhere other than where they are. They'll be laying there, nibbling, and then they just plow forward a little, one at a time, until they're all relocated. Cute but maddeningly slow.

The outside world is a very big place.

They're wonderfully distinct, if you know what to look for. Flash is lighter than the other ducks and has only one stripe down his face instead of two. Spikemo is skinny, and for the first week his head feathers were all matted together in a mini, icky mohawk. Brutae is the biggest and most agressive, while Weebler (he couldn't walk very well when he hatched) is the most affectionate, as well as the smallest.

Trying to convince them that they should use the ramp. They were not amused. I've had better (cleaner) ideas.

Dasta has a greyer chest and doesn't like being touched, unless it's on his terms. Shen is the most noncommittal, and his stripes are slanted so he looks Asian. Smudge is always anxious--she even wakes up from a sound sleep, tucked in the crook of my arm, to chirp and make sure I'm still around. And Taz has a really heavy stripe, like mascara that was smeared. Yes, I am serious. They are all that different. For some reason, people have a hard time believing.

When they decide it's time to sleep, there is no budging them.

I dragged a kiddie pool out to their pen today, and filled it up to the brim with water. They took a lot of coaxing, because this is the first time I've had them around so much water since they were born, but eventually they were all bouncing in and around.

All eight of the little dripping rascals.

It was so funny--the first one I threw in was Taz, and he just bobbed there, feet all splayed out, wondering what in the world was going on. And then, he just gave this odd chirp and took off, diving under the water and streaking around like a mad duck. I was laughing too hard to catch it on camera.

Weebler

Eventually I got tired of wading, and just scooped them and tossed them in. They loved it, I loved it...what a beautiful day.



Shen

If I can't have people around, well...ducklings are a pretty close second.

I tried sticking a vid on but it didn't work. Maybe tomorrow.