Monday, June 23, 2014

Duck Wars and other weekend happenings

It was close, but there have been no injuries and no bloodshed.
On Saturday I went to the feed store to pick up goat chow, fish chow, dog chow, rabbit chow and I even went to the grocery store (on a Saturday! Do I have a death wish?) and picked up a little bit of people chow.
While at the feed store, I saw the small building labeled "Critter Corner."
What could it hurt? I thought.
So in I went, not emerging until I had two more ducks to add to our three at home.
 But these are brown ducks and will look more natural in our mountain pond setting. This is the very reasonable argument I practiced in my head before Rod saw I bought more ducks.
When I arrived home, I untied the burlap bags and set the new ducks free in their new home.

I had pictured the old ducks welcoming the new ducks with quiet beeps and quackings and gentle flapping of wings.
I did not picture the new ducks catching sight of the older ducks and saying, "Oh, this is YOUR pond? Our deepest apologies. We'll just find a new place. Ta ta and cheerio!" Then the new brown ducks began waddling down the the road, apparently looking for THEIR pond.
So I began to chase them back to OUR pond, which is plenty large enough for five ducks, for goodness sake.
Lucy came down to see what all the fuss was and began to "help" chase them back to the pond.
 Such a big helper.
There was loud honking and quacking as she chased them up the creek, and it got quite a bit louder when she caught one. The slower one.
I'm sure it was just a tiny misunderstanding. Reluctantly, Lucy let go of the poor duck and I returned it to the pond, safe and sound.

Until the older black and white ducks began to peck at it with their duck bills and then attempted to drown it by holding it's head under water.

Not quite the Welcome Wagon I had expected.

And who knew ducks would hate their new duck neighbors and try to drown them?

 Really, ducks? Seriously?

Well, things calmed down for a few minutes and then the first wave of neighboring campers showed up. Our neighbors own a couple hostels in Portland and invite their friends and people staying there to come to the mountain and camp in tents and yurts.
They call it Family Camp.

I call it a time for me to freshen up on my accent skills.

 It  has been happening for a few years and is fun for all of us. We enjoy visiting people from all around the planet and showing them our horses, goats, fish pond, Rod's little barn brewery etc.

 (Do I sometimes feel like we are a really elaborate exhibit at the zoo?
Yes. Yes, I do.
Good thing I like the zoo.)

The only down side of Family Camp is my tendency to pick up whichever accent the person who is talking to me has and begin using it as my own. Like I was born with it.
I know. This makes no sense at all, and  I have tried to stop it, but when I get nervous or stressed out in the slightest I tend to talk even more.
So, I was talking to some nice people from Wales and just relaxing and enjoying listening to them talk about the dogs they'd had over their lifetime.
I almost forgot to be worried. I forgot to be vigilant.
They mentioned that they had had a German Shepherd (they called it an Alstasion.) and I heard my self say, "Oh, so you like the German Shepherd dogs, then?" in a proper English accent.
Why do I do this??
Arrrrggghhh! (Groaned in whichever accent you have.)

The first time I did this accent stealing, (that I noticed) was when I was attending my sister's wedding at a posh (see??) place near San Diego. I was in the receiving line chatting with some of the groom's family who seemed to have a Euro-East Coast-Madonna thing going on with their way of speaking. They were talking about a vacation they had taken yachting around Greece.
 "Have you been?" They politely asked, although "been" was pronounced  "bean."
I have no idea how I replied, except I know it was in their accent.
They all just looked at me strangely, made quietly courteous murmurings (in their funky, citizen of the world accents) and moved away, probably thinking, "Aha! There's the old barmy sister. Every family has one..."
This is obviously something I must work on.
Both the accent-stealing and the barmy part.

In the meantime, everyone is settled in at the farm, peace is reigning and I'm completely knackered.

Close-up, so you can see there are no injuries.

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