July 26, 2001 ~ One less duck
"Oh, yeah, you have one less white female duck," he said.
It was the mama duck, and I couldn't quite believe it, since I'd JUST seen her that morning, and she had looked fine. I don't know why, but I always seem to think that this makes animals or people immune from harm... if I have JUST seen them, then they MUST be safe and fine and there has obviously been some sort of terrible mistake. But this morning I saw for myself, the mama duck was gone. I wondered if the males might have done her in, and I couldn't help but feel guilty about that. Yes, it was only a duck, and lots of people eat ducks, but we don't... and she was very cute and sweet. She and her brown compadre had just raised that little flock of ducks and chicks, and we'd only turned her out into the pen with the males... a very few days ago. During mating season, male ducks can be AWFUL. Aggressive. But I'd looked at her just yesterday morning and she didn't seem the least bit injured, so maybe it was the heat. When it gets up around 100 degrees, chickens die, just like that, though I've never known it to be a problem for ducks. They even have a swimming pool, and they all have shade. Well.
One of the hens has been on the nest, trying to hatch some eggs, but we really don't need any more chickens. There's only so much space in the pen. When it gets crowded, they get on each other's nerves and they fight, sometimes to the death. Clearly, someone had to get rid of those eggs before they hatched. And being the grownup here, I gritted my teeth and did that very mean thing. Tossed them down the hill and far away, trying not to look. Maybe they were still yolk-like, anyway. I didn't want to think about it. I do eat chicken and eggs, but I couldn't help but feel mean, as I took those eggs from that hen.
Yesterday I didn't feel so great. Was dizzy and sick to my stomach, very unsteady on my feet. It might have been the heat -- it WAS awfully humid and hot. Or maybe it was just that I... called... the plumber. THAT was painful. Rumor has it that he's the best in town, which doesn't make me feel all that much better. They are supposed to call me next week to set up the appointment.
In a perfect world, I would live in a perfect house. The roof and foundation would be fine, everything electrical would work like a charm, and above all else, the plumbing would be flawless. It would be a pretty house, of course. It would have wide windowsills where cats could sun themselves, would have just the right amount of closet space, would have new, plush carpet and wallpaper that wasn't peeling off the walls and didn't have raccoons or duckies on it.
If anything went wrong in this perfect house, someone would be right there to take care of it immediately, and not only that, he would pat me gently on the back, saying "There, there" in soothing tones. He would hand me something cool to drink and encourage me to sit down and put my feet up. This someone would probably even live here on the property, in the guest house (yes, there would have to be a guest house). His wife would love to cook and clean and would want to take care of those pesky little details for us. You know... the keeping the house clean, the cooking.
Sound like a dream? Well, I have known people who had homes like this, and have spent time in these homes. Oddly enough, they took it all for granted, and didn't consider their worlds to be perfect, not at all. They weren't even happy. A good friend once inherited a LOT of money; she claimed that it made her life worse. She tried to get me to help her spend some of that money, but I wasn't up for the task. Spending money, especially large quantities of it, makes me nervous. Which brings me back to the issue at hand... plumbing.
I wouldn't want the problems that my friends had, and I wouldn't want all their money. But I would like to have that "There, there..." guy around, to live in a little house out back and keep everything in good working order.
Especially the plumbing.
How did I manage to go from ducks to plumbing?
Water?
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