The Strange Case of Boris the Duck

I know we aren’t supposed to play with them. Sometimes you just can’t help it.

It was a beautiful day here in Washington State. Patches of pale winter blue sky, temperatures in the 50s. A welcomed change over the arctic cold and snow of the last two weeks.

My small flock of ducks and chickens were enjoying it as well. Trapped in their little coops, left to let their little chicken minds wander and dream of the lazy Montesano summers here. Me, dressed in my chicken coup cleaning clothes. I should say before I get into the rest of this story, as they will play a part, the clothes were something awful. We all have a set of clothes we don’t throw away for real dirty jobs. Yes, I have those too. No these are far worse. These were the heavy duty things you put on when you knew you were going to be dealing with shit all day.

I began my work with earnest. The chickens and ducks weren’t the only ones kept in the house with the snow. Little Spartacus, a bushy tailed squirrel, was excited and ran right over. He loves me and is sure the two hazelnut trees I planted down by my pond were for him. I still haven’t gotten a single hazelnut from those trees. They reside in the hollowed out old dead Alder tree he lives in, but that is another story.

It was a happy little backyard farm though, a day of joy and harmony. Even Kamala Harris would say “it was a time as is in all days for us to realize time is together as days.” We were all having a great period of man and flock.

Until the Seattle liberals showed up.

I am an expert on ducks. No, I really am. In particular Muscovy ducks. I don’t go overboard, but a side hobby is selectively breeding. Tinkering here and there. You know, like the great Scientist Anthony Fauchi does with humans.

I currently have too many Drakes. If there are females around they just fight with each other unless you separate them. If only….if only I could gender neutral some of them. On a side note which is why I was paying keen interest to the work the Scientist Fauchi was doing on turning monkeys trans. “A fine use of our tax dollars“, I muttered to myself hearing it on the radio.

The one Drake I was willing to let go was Boris. A particularly fine example of a Muscovy duck! Friendly to a fault. He too wanted attention. His mouth flapping going HAHAHA!, bobbing his head and wagging his little white tail feathers. As a duck is wont to do.

He didn’t know his life was about to change.

I had placed the ad on Craigslist earlier last week. I live somewhat remotely and am used to people responding from the big city. They love to come out here. They think we are quaint and provincial. We put on quite a show for them down at the gas stations and such. Talking too loud about “Drop bears” falling from trees, you know the stuff. It is about the only contact we have with each other….we sure don’t go there.

Such was the case when the hybrid gleaming clean SUV quietly pulled up to my driveway.

In it were a man and his partner, I would never dare to accuse them of actual marriage, not from being from Seattle, I wouldn’t want to trigger them.

They were, of course both wearing masks in the car. Of course they were. They were wearing their catalog ordered go to the country clothes. Neatly pressed and bright due to never been either washed or worked in.

It took them an extra minute of fussing with their masks and sanitizer before they braved their way back to my barn area.

The girl actually had a spray bottle of something with her.

There was no way these two were leaving with Boris. God knows they would probably wash and quarantine him.

As they approach, I leaned on the fence. I looked every bit the hillbilly harbinger you see in the movies. You know the guy who warns the van load of teenagers not to go to “that” lake. I haven’t shaved in a while either.

It was around two pm. About the time my wife brings out her tray of treats. Yes, they get treats in the afternoon, don’t judge us.

Apple bits from our trees that we store all winter. Fresh neatly sliced greens, rice, its a duck and chicken dream. And don’t think for a minute ducks and chickens can’t tell time.

Boris the wonder duck

All the birds were jacked up, just the sight of these two, in their minds, equated to the possibility of little apple bits and they started working themselves into a frenzy. Making noise jumping around. “look at me…look at me…I’m a good duck….throw me a treat!!!” I think you get the picture. Maybe they just didn’t like Seattle woke liberals. After all they had been raised on talk radio coming out of my shop and there is a live free or die poster in the coup. I don’t know, something for the Scientist Anthony Fauchi to conduct mind experiments on.

No way were these two leaving with Boris. They weren’t equipped to deal with a duck. I was about to do them a favor, they just didn’t know it.

About this time they were only a few feet away from me and I backed up and fished out MY MASK. The one I use when I have to clean out the coop. It is a particularly nasty old thing that lives in that pocket. I didn’t strap it on, just held it frighteningly over my face with my hand.

With an outstretched arm and pointed finger I shouted “You guys have the Rona” ….backing away from them.. “These ducks can sense it.” By now they were baking up. Their little liberal minds whirling. They were the ones who accuse others, they didn’t have training for this. For them being the one people point fingers at?

I have one chicken, Dee Dee, that plays dead whenever someone walks by or gets close. I don’t know why she does it, she just does. So that was a nice touch watching her fall over with her little feat clawing the air in a death grasp. “That’s my girl“, I was thinking to myself.

Dorothy, a mature duck gets so excited she flies up to the low roof of my shed and flaps her wings, she was on que. As were they all, just doing the stuff barnyard chickens and ducks do to get attention.

It was delicious.

I told them that they couldn’t have a duck. Not without a COVID test and a quarantine period of at lest ten days. I then began to ask about if they practice questionable behavior and if they knew any unvaccinated people. They assured me they didn’t, “they wouldn’t!”. “Well someone is lying to you, ducks know these things, you need to start checking cards.” They nodded their heads when I reminded them of the grizzly work the Scientist Fauchi does on animals. “For a reason.” I told them.

About this time I was going full midevil inquest. Did they have their shots? Four of them minimum. “Israel is experimenting with five shots you know.” I couldn’t help myself asking to see the papers as their paranoia grew. Now I see why they do it. There is a bit of a thrill demanding to see someone’s papers and watch them nervously fumble around. Leaving Seattle and bringing that death with them to us simple country people? I don’t think so. They were apologizing now and agreed look into their “covid security”, as they put it. “Pretty lame security if a duck rats you out.” I never thought I would actually get a chance in my life to say those words. But I did.

I’m working on a story that has some use for quotes from Revelations so they were fresh in my head and made full use as they slowly walked back to their car.

Revelation quotes don’t even need to make sense, so I shouted with inflection “Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place.”

I gave him to a kid doing a 4-H type project up river, so Boris ended up at a good home.