Today was a big day for the 8 week old ducks: they went to the pond.
They moved into the duck pen from the brooding room in the barn earlier in the week after this morning, before I began reviewing graduate student work, I opened the pen and had the adult ducks lead them to the little pond.
Zinger and I stayed behind them, offering an encouraging hand gesture to the crowd of 6 ducks and 2 geese following the 4 adults to the pond.
Herding ducks and chickens, I’ve discovered, is fairly easy if you do two things. Don’t get too close, and use the hand opposite the direction you want the group to go. In other words, by extending my left arm, the group goes to the right. Right arm: they go left. Now that I write this, I’m not sure what happens if I extend both arms.
Here is the video of the gang, just as they made it to the little pond and joined the others.
They did a little swimming, and little frolicking, and then spent most of the day in the shade on the dam.
In time, the 4 adults made their way back to the pen. The newcomers didn’t really know want to do, so Zinger and I walked along the pond edge and then herded them back to the pen. On the way back, one of the young cresteds eyed the dock and bolted for the water. But rather than abandon the crew and try to get the loner, I stayed with the group as they waddled back to the pen.
This year, the little pond has none of the floating pond meal that covered much of the water the last two years. There is a thick growth of water primrose along the edges and to the north, the grass and weeds are thick and stand shoulder high.
To make it easy for the ducks to get in and out of the water, I mowed the dam and the eastern edge, but I leave the shore growth thick to help contain the ducks to the pond.
After about 20 minutes on the pond alone, the young crested worked through the floating portions of the primrose and headed into the tall grass. I wasn’t worried about finding a big white duck in a field of green, but I did grab my boots and set out to steer him back to the pen. When I got to the water edge, he was no where to be found, but as I listened, I could hear him whisper his not-yet-developed adult duck voice as we worked through the growth, at ground level. He made his way to the mowed grass and up the hill to the pen. He followed along the pheasant side of the pen, turned the corner, and made his way back to join the others.
I left the pen open for them to come and go as they please. We’ll see how they do on their future trips.
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