The Duck That Didn’t

      It’s a backyard mystery.  It all began one warm afternoon when I dug out the lawn mower and began sprucing up the back yard.

      I didn’t startle when a bird flew up.  I saw no bird at all, but when I mowed an inch or two into the mint, I saw the gap.  Then I saw the nest full of eggs, right up against the foundation in the thick of the mint patch.

      I summoned the Goodwife to take a gander.  What senseless bird would build a nest in a fenced  backyard?  It about had to be a duck, judging from the egg size.  There are no chickens running around.  Too small for turkey eggs, even if we had turkeys in the area.

     Tradition has it that ducklings have to be led to water not too long after they are hatched.  How did the egg-layer plan on doing that?  Scenes of neighbors trying to herd a mama duck with a train of ducklings across the cul-de-sac through the neighbor’s gate to the lake in their backyard began to from in my head.

     I finished mowing the backyard and moved to the front yard.  When I finished with it, I took the mower back and checked on the nest on my way to the shed.  Eggs there, but nobody tending them.  Probably been abandoned, I thought.

       I didn’t spend much time worrying about it.  I took off for the farm and pretty much forgot about the nest in the mint.  But back from the farm some days later, when I walked into the house towards the back door, I was greeted with a sign:

       The Goodwife had kept an eye on the nest, and found it indeed had an incubator in full attendance.  

      I tiptoed through the backyard so as not to disturb the expectant mother.  I even carefully placed a ladder where I could get some elevation and get a camera shot.  Later, we found we could get right up next to her without frightening her off her eggs.  You have to look carefully.  She is camouflaged well.  The blank spot on the foundation without any mint growing is the marker.

     Things went along for three weeks.  The duck would leave the eggs along towards evening.  The eggs were no longer visible.  Instead, you saw a circle of down.  It could have been baby ducklings, except it never moved.  There were still eggs under the down.

      I was gone to the farm again when the Goodwife reported that the duck was gone and so were the eggs.  What happened to them?  We speculated.

     Did the eggs hatch and the mama duck led the babies off?  No, because we would have heard them.  Youth cannot keep still.  Besides, how would they get out of the yard?

      Did the duck move her eggs to a place of safety?  Ducks can’t haul eggs.  She would have had to hire two men with a truck, or something similar.

       The Goodwife spotted four feathers in the  yard near the nest.  Had something devoured the mama duck and the nest contents?  Well, maybe, and there is a nasty raccoon in the area who haunts the backyard at night.  It uses the roof of our smaller shed for a latrine.

     The raccoon theory is the most believable.  Except, if a raccoon raided the nest and had a breakfast of duck eggs, where are the shells and the mess that should attend such a raid?  The mint around the nest remains undisturbed.  Could the raccoon have committed kidnapping and murder without crushing down some mint around the scene?

     It’s a cold case now.  I think CSI-Loveland won’t have the time to devote to the case.  I think it will have to remain a mystery forever.

      The sign near the back door is gone, gone with the duck.  Our visions of being foster parents to a family of quackers have disappeared as well.  On the flip side, I can do my backyard chores now without the worry of disturbing a wild creature.  Well, not too wild.

      I did disturb my domestic partner, by planting two tomatoes in the middle of the backyard, not too far from the mint and its mysterious and abandoned nest.  “Right in the middle?” she asked.  But there was nothing growing there but weeds, my response.

      In the first two or three shovelsful of dirt as I prepared to transplant the tomato plant, I struck a sprinkler head.  No big deal because that circuit had been abandoned before we moved  in.  Had I been trying to find that sprinkler head, however, I would have dug holes all over the backyard and never hit it.  There it is, right next to the tomato.

     On a sadder note, Hemi the Cat returned to his ancestors this past week.  Attempts to relieve him of his pain and restore some life to him were unsuccessful.  He was 14.        

    

Memorial Weekend, 2019

Genoa Alumni Meeting

      Genoa has its alumni gathering on Memorial Day weekend every other year.  It's a collection of old folks who gathered.  We aren't adding any new ones.

     Laurel arranged for alumni to tour the old Tower west of Genoa.  We were among the first to arrive at the Tower.  There were all kinds of signs, "No Trespassing,"  "Keep Out", etc.  I was a bit nervous about entering, but who should walk out the door but Patty Calhoun.  

      If you have ever watched Colorado Public Television, you may have seen Patty.  She is the editor (or is publisher?) of Westword.   She is on Colorado Inside Out on Friday nights.  I relaxed.  Patty and two others bought the Tower and are trying to preserve and restore it.  

     They thought they could give it to the historical society, but the society declined, unless an endowment came with it, which it didn't.  Now, they are looking for financing to help with the expensive and labor-intensive project.  

      Many of the attendees had worked for Jerry Chubbuck.  Our two hostesses were eager to hear stories the former employees had to tell.  I was able to add my bit.  Somebody said something about holding dances there.  I said that Uncle Walter said you had to be careful or you would slide off the slanty stage.

       Patty wanted to know when that was.  I said it was probably in the thirties, but I wasn't sure.  She said that they would have to revisit one of their theories about what caused the stage to slant.  Apparently, it was built that way.

  

      Probably not six states (See Six States!), but the view is impressive.

     

     Those folks have their work cut out for them.
     We finished the day at the cemetery, doing our duty for past generations.  We had to hurry as the weather threatened.

      I'm sorry to report that the flowers were all artificial this year.  The pre-storm gale against which  we strove managed to de-blossom some of the plastic flowers.  I think the real things would not have stood much of a chance.  We will do better next year.