Yesterday at playgroup someone casually asked if we would like a duck (mmm...a l'orange? Peking? confit?) and after running it by S Jack and I said yes. We went to the shops and got a box and then picked up our new friend. Jack wanted me to drive with her on my lap but I'm glad I didn't. Duck's do very smelly poos.
I was concerned about how she would integrate with the girls. I distracted them with lots of lovely scraps then opened the box. The fattest of the girls immediately flew at her and pecked away in a most inhospitable fashion. I was unsure what to do, especially as Jack was watching and looking worried so I yelled, "Bad Chicken! Bad Chicken!" and flapped my arms which did the trick. Well actually all the chickens and the duck stopped and looked at me as if to say,"what's she on about?" Then there was a bit more pecking and such. I was worried that the duck might not last long but when I went back a little while later an uneasy truce had been declared.
And so we have named her. Well, I call her Ping which she responds to but S is still pushing for Daffy (please!). We haven't named the chickens because they are well, chickens and are just known as the girls. Apparently duck eggs are very good for sponge cakes.
1 comment:
Would Piffy be a good compromise?
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