We have just one duck left. In a very sad "Of Mice and Men" twist Cleo got in, or the duck got out, and she just hugged it too much. When I found Cleo she was laying very quietly with the duck. No blood, no marks, just no longer living.
Which means we have this one duck left (see: Loss on the Farm). The Last of the Mohicans. And so, we are doing our best to give him a great and happy home (I don't think I can convey enough how terrible and guilty we feel about losing our third duck).
He sleeps with the chickens in the coop at night (in his own cage so they can't peck him), comes up in the morning to shower with Mr. Nick and get some time with the cats, then spends the day with the chickens (in a bigger kennel our neighbors have so graciously loaned to us). Our neighbors also come get him when they can, if they're out doing yard work, as they have a wonderful pond he can splash in. Here he is with the handsome man last night tending the burn pile.
When he is big enough he will live with the chickens freely. Side Note: We haven't had any more eagle losses. a) Turkish and Cleo are really getting good at spotting aerial predators (especially those super dangerous barn swallows, you just can't be too careful) and b) Our chickens are getting much better about running for cover when they see dark shadows above them....and then letting the whole world know that they are hiding in a bush under a tree...we're still working on being discreet.
Here's a video from this morning...the duck is kind of a crack-up and nothing like the runner ducks in that he HAS to be near something. You are preferred but anything else with blinking eyeballs to talk to him is acceptable. Please disregard my hyena-squeal :)