Lehman’s Country Life

It took 36 hours. That’s an eternity for a child. Or for a hatchling. And that’s the reason the new member of our family got her special name. Our new duckling is called “Milagro”-the Spanish word for “miracle”-because she had a lot of trouble making her entrance into the world. She didn’t give up, even though we almost gave up on her.

Milagro’s story begins, as all births do, with her mother. The mallard sat on a nest of nine eggs for two weeks. She only came off her bed of straw for brief moments to eat and drink. And the whole time she was away she called out loudly, “Leave me alone you ducks, chickens and humans! Can’t you see I’m in a hurry?” And looking back toward the nest she would cry out, “Don’t worry babies. I’m coming right back.”

But then one day she left the nest without any conversation. Two hours later she was still quietly foraging for food. It appeared to the children, who were eager for any excuse to claim the eggs, that the momma duck had abandoned them.
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Koda, our blue and brown-eyed Heeler/Australian Shepherd, used to go outside to play with Bear, our lovable mutt. Bear may have the head of a Chow, but he has none of the testy qualities of that breed. The two dogs would run and play for awhile and then Koda would be ready to come inside to resume her role as a pampered indoor dog. When our big Bear comes inside to spend the night in the back room, Koda expresses her presumed superiority. She nips him and tries to make sure he cannot move anywhere else in the house except to go directly to his room. I noticed recently that this herding behavior was becoming increasingly hostile. Koda was pulling out Bear’s hair. And all he did in response was cry.

Then a strange thing happened.
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Why do I have holes in so many of my pants? Right near the knees, my blue jeans gap open. I’m sure the neighbors wonder if I’m trying to be in style with the local teenagers or if I save up old jeans to wear the barnyard. But the truth is, it is a nasty rooster who is ruining my wardrobe.

He’s a big white fellow who waits until my arms are full or I have turned my back. Then he puffs out his chest and jumps at my legs with his claws fully extended. I usually give him a swift kick or shove him away.

Most farmers would have turned him into soup long ago. But the problem is my daughter loves this bird. She raised him from egg to adulthood. And he was such a sweet fluff ball after he hatched from the incubator! How is it he became such a passive-aggressive rooster? We’ve had other roosters and none of them have attacked the hand that feeds them.
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After a couple of weeks of frigid weather, going out to the barnyard becomes a chore no one wants. That is until someone in the family comes in with a story about the little black hen who is hanging out with the equines! She offers the kind of entertainment you can’t find anywhere else. No matter how cold it is, the barnyard is really the place to be.

Our entertaining chick is eight months old, so one might think she should know by now what kind of creature she is. But she has come to be called “Little Horse” for a reason.

This chick was born last summer to an all-white chicken. The mother hen didn’t seem to be properly caring for her chick. At least that was the excuse the children gave for bringing her inside the house. For almost three months, the baby bird lived in a box for half the day and was carried around by the children for the rest of the time.
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