Tag Archives: ducks

Broody ducks and forlorn love birds

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The secret nest of eggs, hidden in the crook of a tree.

I can’t speak for all poultry growers, but from my experience, free range poultry can offer some fun challenges in egg collection.

Poultry, like most living things, are creatures of habit. The chickens tend to lay in the nesting box, and go about their daily business or scratching and foraging for bugs and dusting themselves. The ducks, who sometimes lay anywhere the egg drops, for the most part find a corner of the duck house and lay before 8 am, then go about their day foraging in the ponds.

But with 6 fairly prolific ducks, I’m only finding 3 – 4 eggs a day which suggests either some flock stress, or someone has a secret egg stash.

When duck :30 came Thursday night, when one of the ducks failed to return to the pen, I guessed she has gone broody and is sitting on her secret nest.

So let me introduce the cast of characters so you can keep the layers straight:

There are 10 ducks and 2 geese in the lineup:

Two cayugas are part of my original four.  Both are ducks (not drakes) and lay very well almost year around.

A brown runner (now with white spots) duck and the white crested drake with the biggest crest are gifts from my friends Lori and Ev, who needed to give them a new home. We did a meet-you-half-way drive to Missouri to exchange them in a ferocious rain storm.

Two cayugas, (one drake, one duck) arrived last summer, along with

Two black runners (one drake, one duck) who sometimes I call DIB or “Ducks in Black” because during the winter, they would run along side the goose and gander almost like secret service agents protecting POTUS and FLOTUS.

POTUS and FLOTUS are the goose and gander.

Finally, two new crested, one duck and one drake, round out the 10.

During winter, all 12 were fairly tight, moving as a flock together.  With spring, they have divided into tribes.  The brown runner and crested keep to themselves on the far end of the big pond and are often the last back at night.

The new cayuga drake, the crested duck,  the two DIB runners and a cayuga duck from the original ducks now form the group I call “the gang of five”.

The other three tend to hang with POTUS and FLOTUS the geese.

During Friday’s photo for my 365 project, I noticed the gang of five was a gang of four… and it was the oldest cayuga who remained out over night.

Seven eggs all in a row. From either one week or over several days.

Friday, after I finished my University work and some follow up to a day long meeting, I decided to go seek her nest.  What I found, in the nook of a tree at the top of the little pond dam, was this secret stash of eggs.  There are 7 eggs, but its impossible to guess their age.  They may have all been laid this week or they could be daily eggs over the last few weeks.

She is no where to be found, and so I’m not certain this is her nest…it may belong to one of the others.

I suspect their is another nest in a wood pile where I see the gang of five hanging out during parts of the day.  I’ve searched there, but cant find anything….yet.

But not to be outdone, is the young Amerucana hen who leaves the coop each day, sneaks out of the fence and into the barn to hang out with the two roosters.  The roosters  are in “detention” for being a little rough in their breeding habits.  I have two roosters and 5 hens, that’s a bad ratio and it shows. 3 of the hens have have their back and neck feathers plucked by the roosters (named El Senor and Colonel Sanders).

So like an abused lover from COPS or the Jerry Springer show who can’t give up her man, she runs over to visit the boys in their detention.  She’s made a cozy nest there, and each day, lays her egg there.  So rather than fight nature, I just collect her egg there  during chores as I water the turkeys and once or twice a day, pick her up and carry her back to the other hens.

 

 

Time to talk turkey

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I need to take care of a little business

I’m pleased to say this year’s turkeys are all growing and looking well, there is a mix of Bourbon Reds, Narragansett, and Royal Palms. These will be processed as an state inspected facility and available approximately November 20.

Air Chilled

The turkeys will be air chilled — not cooled in a water bath — these will be outstanding turkeys this year, unlike any store-bought Thanksgiving you have tasted.

Your reservation lets me know how many birds to plan for and who is interested. An order secures your delivery date and quantity. Final prices are based on dressed weight. I’ll try to guide nature to come as close to your desired weight as possible. But this is natural growing process, not factory controlled.

About our growing season

I’m not a commercial grower, I don’t have stock year around, but instead, raise a small number of birds each year and let their pasture and pens “rest” during the balance of the year. This helps keep diseases in check and gives their foraging pasture time to recover.

Chickens

The chickens are a Freedom Ranger chicken from French breeding stock, originally bred for France’s Label Rouge qualities. These chickens grow well, have nice white meat and dark meat to please all. A few each year top 7 pounds and a few finish closer to 3.5. If you have a preference, let me know

Raised free-range, in closed pen at night to protect from predation, birds fed supplemental feed from all plant (non animal) sources

Reservations accepted Beginning January 1, 2011
Delivery: October – November 2011
Payment (Balance due on delivery)
Sold Fresh (pick up only) or frozen (limited delivery area and times)

Chicken : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : $3.00 per pound (Approximately 5 pounds each) (some smaller, some larger)

At the request of some customers, I am sizing a few more birds this year in the 3 – 3..5 pound range, its the same great chicken, just less of it.

Dates Available:
October 4 (limited), 11 (SOLD OUT), 18, 25
November 1, 8, 15 (limited)

Turkeys

These are heritage breed birds, not the hybridized, broad-breasted sold in the grocery store. Typically these are Royal Palm, Narragansett, and Bourbon Red breed. Hens run smaller, toms dress under 20 pounds.

Raised free-range, in closed pen at night to protect from predation, birds fed supplemental feed from all plant (non animal) sources

Reservations accepted Beginning January 1, 2011
Delivery: November (Thanksgiving week) or December 20, 2011
Payment (Half due in June, balance due on delivery)
Sold Fresh (pick up only) or frozen (limited delivery area and times)

Turkey : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : $4.00 per pound (Approximately 9 – 20 pounds each)

Available:
November 2o 5 remain
December 20

Ducks (Ducks are sold out for 2011) contact me

These are Pekin (white feathered) ducks, raised for meat. This duck cleans easily and presents well if serving whole. Necks removed unless requested otherwise

Raised free-range, typically spend most of day on two ponds during day and in closed pen at night to protect from predation, birds fed supplemental feed.

Reservations accepted Beginning January 1, 2011
Delivery: November (Thanksgiving week) or December 20, 2011
Payment (Half due in June, balance due on delivery)
Sold Fresh (pick up only) or frozen (limited delivery area and times)

Duck : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : $4.00 per pound (Approximately 5 pounds each)

Available:
November 2o (Very limited)
December 20

Please let me know about the poultry you would like to buy for this season.

*(denotes required field)

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Smarter than your average duck

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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.

…it was uphill, both ways, in cardboard shoes

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Oh, the stories we tell.

Winters now are never as bad as the winter’s of our grandparent’s youth, when they walked to school — up hill, both ways — in cardboard shoes — and they liked it!

The drifts reached the top of the deck

The drifts reached the top of the deck

But yes, 2009 -2010 looks like one for the memory book.  The snow at Two Mile was deeper than I’ve seen here, and the drifts and snow mounds rival what I remember as a kid.  The wind has moved the drifts — nearly deck high around the cabin, two duck deep in the pens, but there is a clear, drift free area just in front of the chicken coop which makes it easy to feed, water and check on the chickens.

It was a year ago that we saw temps pushing 60 degrees, and then plunging enough to cause my underground water line to freeze.  This year, I can hope to avoid that lesson.  On our coldest days, 17 below zero, the water flowed, the drains ran, the heat worked and the Internet stayed connected.  It almost made me think I was living someone else’s life.

Now, after a week of warmer, 30 degree days, the snow is manageable, the drive is nearly clear, and I can dig out the chicken coop and let the ducks wander down to the pond.

I need to remember to let the ducks take care of themselves.  Every time I try and intervene, I learn a life lesson, similar to the  old joke I’ve heard.

It’s the story of a man, and his faith.

The man’s home was surrounded by flood waters during a nasty storm and before long, a rescue boat came close and they yelled at the  man through his window to evacuate into the boat.  But the man told the rescuer’s his faith would protect him and to rescue someone else.  The boat left and the water rose.  So then man scrambled to the roof of the home.

A second boat came, this time with more urgent pleas, but the man refused, saying his faith would protect him.

Finally, as the flood waters nearly covered the roof of the home, a helicopter hovered overhead.  They lowered a rope which the man refused, saying his faith would save him.

Minutes later, he was swept away and drowned. (No, that’s not the funny part)

The man meets his God and asks, “God, how could you let me drown?  I put my faith in you and you did not save me.”

And God replies, “I sent two boats and a helicopter, what else did you want?”

This story crossed my mind, after I learned a life lesson on Sunday last.  It started when I shuffled a path from the duck pen to the pond and let the ducks out to swim.  I don’t know for sure, but I have to think that to ducks, 35 degree water is warmer than 0 degree air.  By the end of the afternoon, I walked down to try and herd the ducks back to the pen.

An aerator keeps open water as the ducks swim

An aerator keeps open water as the ducks swim

All nine ducks got out and started back.  They could not see a path or grass, just white snow everywhere they looked.  Five of them continued on to the pen, the other 4 went back to the water.

Here is where I made the first of my mistakes.  I should have let them figure it out on their own, but what resulted was me, trying to herd / encourage the ducks out of the water, only to strengthen their resolve to stay in the water and for me to fall through the ice

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four times.

To paraphrase the joke,

“Why didnt you tell me it was a bad idea?”

“You fell through the ice 4 times, what more did you need?”

By the next night, all the ducks were back in the pen.  If the four straggler ducks could talk, I’m sure they will be telling the others that their trip to the pond was “up hill, both ways…..and they liked it.”

She wrote: “Merry effin’ Christmas”

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Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

A newspaper man in 1897 wrote those lines in what became one of the most reprinted editorials in the history of print. Francis Pharcellus Church, answered an 8 year old girl who wrote him asking:

“DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
“Papa says, ‘If you see it in THE SUN it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

Over 112 years later, someone who has a very special place at Two Mile wrote on her Facebook status update:

(Name) can’t even read the blogs at this point. Everyone is negative, everyone is finding fault with some group or another, everyone hates someone or something … the government is busilly screwing everyone … we’re being manipulated by retailers to buy, buy, buy when the whole country is broke, broke, broke … Merry effin’ Christmas.

I’ll refer to her as my “Facebook friend”  and she and her partner live quite a distance from  Two Mile Ranch.  Her gifts and emails  have made such a difference in the daily life here that I took her comments to heart. I wondered if I, too, agreed, with what she writes.  And yes, much of what she shares is true of the blog-o-sphere.  Many days, I look at my life through the same “smudge colored glasses”, seeing only the bad, the broken, and the criminal of life.

So many of us wrestle with our demons during 11 months of the year, and in this tough year, its hard not to let the demons rule all 12 months.

The view from the big cabin

The view from the big cabin

But if I could give a Christmas gift to my Facebook Friend, I would invite her and her partner to Two Mile for the day.  We’d begin letting Zinger out for a morning run.  Zinger, the Aussie Shepard, has the breed quirk of curling her lip and bearing her teeth in an adorable smile first thing in the morning, when I see a smile like that, it’s hard to think about double digit unemployment.

Then, we’d go to the chicken coop, let the girls out to roam in the snow and collect fresh eggs for breakfast. We’d pause for a moment, and I’d be thankful for another friend who encouraged me in the chicken raising.  If not for the encouragement, I might have waited another year, and missed the fun and rewards of chickens.

Next, we’d move on to the duck pen, to feed the 9 ducks and let them out to wander to the pond.  In tribute to the Clement Clarke Moore poem, we could call them by name, “On Liberace, On Billy Ray” and so on….. the duck known as “Sweetie”, who I later came to find out was realy named “Hillary”, could eat from our hands before quacking (being the loud and bossy one) down behind the others to the open water of the pond.

During the day, we could explore the back 60 acres, looking at ways to improve the game bird habitat and expand and restore the pasture. The gently rolling hills are now depleted of nutrients from 18 years of sitting idle in a CRP program.  The future of making this land better and sustainable lies in the next 5 years of work. There is a mile or two of fences to fix to help keep grass fed beef and goats safe and in line. My  friends are encouraging me and we’re talking about ways we can both use the pasture to grow our small ideas into bigger and better sustainable ones. We both want to  raise grass fed beef and perhaps certify the pasture as organic.  There is much work to do and we really won’t “partner” as much as work side by side.  There is so much opportunity and promise for the future.

If we’re lucky, we’ll see some of the pheasants released this season.  I know where a few tend to hide out during the day.

Over coffee and tea in the afternoon, we could share stories about favorite friends.  Those who we’ve stayed close with, and other friendships we wish to mend. Friendships, too, are often strained during tough times, and as we grow older, we lose half of them every 7 years or so.

There might even be a discussion about how to balance the pleasures of solitary small farm living with the importance of social connectedness.

Finally, as the sun drops behind the western hill during this string of shortest days of the year, the single  Christmas tree, which has been lighted every year on the end of the dock, in the middle of the small pond, would add festive colors to the snow and ice over the pond, and up the hill to the cabin.

A passing neighbor will probably honk once or twice as they head off to holiday activities, or the chili super fund raiser for the local emergency crew in town.

But also, knowing my Facebook friend, the rush of holiday sentimentality and warmth in her heart will also be tempered by enough humor, that the day would end something like

I heard them exclaim as they drove out of site,  “Merry effin’ Christmas to all, and to all a good night”

With friends like that, I have to agree with Francis Church, yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

Daily harvest

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I’m packing and organizing for some media work at Farm Aid in St. Louis tomorrow.  I’ve also been working on fall projects and tonight we’re expecting a low in the mid 30′s.  Fall is quickly arriving.  For a brief post, I’m sharing a photo of the daily egg harvest.

From left to right: two Rouen eggs; two Cayuga eggs; one Indian Runner egg; one black sex link chicken egg; two Buff Orpington chicken eggs

From left to right: two Rouen eggs; two Cayuga eggs; one Indian Runner egg; one black sex link chicken egg; two Buff Orpington chicken eggs

Following Mocha: Life Lessons from a Duck

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Mocha, on her first day swimming in the little pond, April 23

Mocha, on her first day swimming in the little pond, April 23

I don’t assign human feelings to animals.

Despite the Disney love affair with anthropomorphism, and my personal respect of the work of Dick King Smith, (The Water Horse and Babe, The Gallant Pig)  animals are animals and humans are humans.  If anything, humans are more likely to affect animal traits than vice-versa. That said, I do believe  animals can offer us insight into the world we live, and one personal example is the Black Cayuga Duck I gave the name “Mocha”.

From the beginning, the ducks were a surprise addition to Two Mile Ranch.  And while the drake “Gilbert” always regarded me with a compelling stare, “Mocha” was different, and special, from the get go. When they were just a few weeks old,  as they grew in the tiny cage in the cabin, Mocha tended to lie down more than the other ducks, but Mocha also tolerated being held more, too.

During the early days of living in the pheasant fly pen, before they had a pen of their own, it was clear that Mocha had physical challenges:  she was an awkward and clumsy runner.  She manged on her own and became the leader of the ducks.  I share with you the life lessons I think she had to share with me.

  • Do the best with what you have and you will get where you are going. Mocha struggled on land to walk.  I don’t know if she had a physical defect, a neurological defect, or a vision defect, but she walked in a very awkward way, often not in  a straight line.   Mocha always got where she was going.  With or without the others, at Duck :30, or any time she felt like it, Mocha could easily find her way from the pen to the pond and back again.
  • A leader doesn’t have to lead everywhere or all the time.  Mocha was often the last duck to the pond.  But on the water, Mocha was in charge.  Mocha often led the others from feeding spot to feeding spot, and unlike the odd, non-straight line path on the ground, her water routes were straight.  She was also the strongest swimmer.  At the first sign of trouble, the other ducks would swim towards Mocha.
  • Don’t be afraid to be different.  Mocha was … Mocha.   She would often lead the herd of the 4, then 3, now 10 ducks.  But just as often, she would walk back to the pen on her own, or stay on the pond longer than the others.  Just the other night, she stayed out nearly to dark, the others had returned, and I chased her off the pond and carried her back to the pen.   I wrote an email to a friend about the duck’s reaction using inside jokes between us.  It was funny….Mostly, Mocha was funny and made all my days better.

So here’s what happened today: The past few weeks, I’ve been letting the 1o ducks out each morning to free range all day.  Days I was here, I would watch over them , days I was gone, they were on their own.  Amazingly, like chickens, they had learned to put themselves to bed each night.  Last night, for example, they were in their pen when I got back just before dark.

This morning, I woke, did chores, collected the duck eggs and discovered one of the younger runner ducks has begun laying.

I let the ducks out of the pen, and my last image of Mocha was her walking straight toward the tall grass, so she could feel her way along the edge to the pond.  I left around 8 this morning and returned around 6 tonight.  When I parked the truck, I saw the floating shape in the pond and knew one of the ducks was dead.  I quickly looked over the duck and chicken pen.  All the ducks, were gone, and 5 of the little chickens had escaped their pen.  So first things first, I rounded up the eloped little chickens.

I walked to the pond to confirm the obvious news.  What I saw was was inspiring and curious:

The other 9 ducks were standing guard at the pond edge.  Mocha’s body was about 15 feet off the edge.  The ducks stood there, almost at attention, until I put the rowboat into the water.  Then, they walked back to their pen.  I collected her body, examined her wounds, most likley from a snapping turtle.  I  felt the rigor in her body that suggested she had been dead, and the other ducks had been loyal, for  hours, waiting for my return.

I buried Mocha next to Gilbert, where they can both watch over the little pond.  It’s odd, but the ducks and chickens were usually  quiet tonight.

My friend Lori and I were exchanging emails about another duck situation earlier today and tonight when I told her the news.  She wrote back:

the ducks are so much more than the ”dumb birds” people think they are. The way they stand guard and stick together is really amazing. People could learn a lot from ducks. People could learn a lot from a lot of things if they took the time to pay attention.

I am sad tonight, if you don’t understand why, that is okay.  There are life lessons we can learn from ducks.  And I hope I can continue to follow Mocha.  Even though she was a pet, and it was my responsibility to protect her, a life on a pond, where she could eat, swim, preen and bask in the sun was a greater life than a life in a pen.  Even if it included the risk of being attacked by a predator.  A caged duck is a prisoner, not a pet.

As humans, we  too,  have choices: to live in a safe cage as a prisoner, or to thrive free with risk……do we want to hide, or do we want to follow Mocha?

The Duck : 30 video is repeated below:

Truck, Ducks, and WTF?

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Dealer's Photo of the New Two Mile Ranch Pickup

Dealer's Photo of the New Two Mile Ranch Pickup

Since I sold my 1989 Ford pickup (the title read “Brown” for the color, but each sheet metal panel was a different shade of red), I’ve been looking for a “thousand dollar pickup” for Two Mile.  I wanted 4 wheel drive because the few times I would need it, I would NEED it.  I casually looked off and on, and began to get more serious this summer…..but in my unscientific research, cash-for-clunkers has pretty much taken  those trucks off the market.

The few that remain are now $2000 and $3000.  So I traded my car for a 2002 Ford F150.  All of which is good timing as I prepare for the duck road trip tomorrow.

My friends Kwatch and Ev found the house of their dreams, but one of the results is they need to thin their herd of ducks.  After swapping emails for a few months on any number of topics, when they told me of their opportunity, I quickly agreed to give some of  the ducks a new home here with the Cayugas.

So for a Sunday drive, we’re each driving a rediculous number of hours to meet at a secret undisclosed location to trade the ducks and have a quick lunch and meet and greet.

(Note to readers: some of you are nodding and saying “of course” and others are shaking your heads and saying “wtf?”  Well, yes, you are both right. What I wrote to them when they asked “are you sure you want to do this?” is:

… sometimes there are just certain people you trust and certain things you do because it’s the right thing to do.  Somehow in the big picture of life, this is just the right thing to do.

::: On the road again:::

Even I don’t believe this duck story

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No, I don’t expect you to believe it either, but it happened.

The ducks are laying eggs.  In their duck house, they have scooped out a little nest in the straw, but most days, they lay eggs on the fence line between the duck pen and the pheasant pen.  Ducks do what ducks do.  There’s no telling them different.

A few times, I have found one or two eggs in the nest.  It doesn’t matter really where ducks lay their eggs, but it makes life easier for me.

You see, birds put eggs in nests to keep them in storage until they have a clutch and decide to become broody – that is, sit on the eggs until they hatch.  So a bird will lay and egg, then lay a second, and so on.  If a farmer, like me,  collects the eggs every day, as I do, the bird forgets where it laid the first egg. So the next day it may be in some new place and who knows where it will be.  Farmers who raise true, free-range, egg-laying chickens, literally have an egg hunt every day as they try and find the eggs.

One trick, shared by books and other poultry raisers, is to put a fake egg in the nest a few weeks before the ducks or chickens start laying.  Then the birds learn that’s where the eggs go.  I didn’t do that with the ducks, so I’m behind the times…..and I didn’t have any wood eggs, so I borrowed two plastic eggs that break in half from Easter egg baskets, a blue one and a purple one.  I have had the blue one in the duck “nest” for a couple of days.  There have been no real duck eggs in the nest since I put it in, and the ducks have moved the egg a few inches each day, and I move it back.

The "egg" as I found it

The "egg" as I found it

The with plastic "egg" open to reveal the duck egg inside

The with plastic "egg" open to reveal the duck egg inside

This morning was no eggception (pardon the pun).  The ducks had moved the fake egg a few inches.  But as I started to reach in to move the blue plastic artificial egg back to the nest,  something didn’t look right.  When I picked it up, I knew something odd had happend.  I set it back down and these are pictures of what I found…..as I found the egg, and what was inside the egg.  Yes, thats a duck egg inside the plastic one.

I told you you wouldn’t believe it.

Neighbors being neighbors: Cattleman for the weekend

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There are things we do because they are the right thing to do.  This week, I have two examples.

DSC_0035My physical neighbors about a mile down the road have been good to me.  I met them the first time I high centered my tractor while bush hogging the front of the property.  I drove down the road, and puled in the driveway and asked for help.  Without hesitation, they showed up with their tractor, pulled me out.  Since then, I’ve appreciated their friendship and help.  My daughter’s horse, Jimmeny, lives there.

So naturally, when Virlin stopped by and asked if I would feed his cattle while they were gone, I said yes.  Okay, “cattleman” is an exaggeration.  This calving season, they were left with 5 orphan cows.  Rather than graze with the rest of the herd, they moved into their barn and now roam a small electric fenced pasture until they are older.  For the weekend, I’m making sure they have water and letting them share a bucket of sweet feed each evening.

My virtual neighbors (what else do you call friends you know from their blog, but have never met?  ideas anyone?)  shared some great news about a new home they’ve found.  The move means they need to move off their rural land and 17 ducks need new homes.  I told them I would gladly take 5:  two rouens, and 3 chocolate runners.  In jest, they offered one of these:

Crested ducks with the Mullet haircut....'don't break my heart, my achey breaky heart..."

Crested ducks with the mullet haircut....'don't break my heart, my achey breaky heart...'

and I agreed to take two.  Nothing like a duck with a Billy Ray Cyrus mullet that says “business” in the front and “party” in the back.

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