Mexican Standoff
Duck edition.
Two ducks walk into a bar. No. Make that three. Yes, let’s start here. There’s an earlier version of this story with six ducks, but that’s too much for you. Trust me.
Three ducks. Drakes, actually. Those are male ducks. Female ducks are just ducks. You’re welcome.
Three drakes. Living happily in the barnyard. Squeezing themselves in and out of the little coop door with their chicken roommates. Tucking their bright orange bills under their wings in the tall grass for a nap. Padding around in the snow unaware of the cold, buffered by their thick downy breasts.
The drakes, clueless to the nearby pond, dunk their heads full under water in scattered buckets. They shovel in the muck for what? Microorganisms? Algae? Their white feathers like Teflon, deflect any marring even on the dirtiest of barnyard days.
Occasionally, one drake hoists himself into the donkey’s water stock tank — where the donkeys drink from — to splash and dunk. While one drake bathes, the others circle around the tank and quack jealously. This can persist all day. Sometimes the duck in the tank appears not to be able to get out. He can stand. His feathers become super saturated and yet, he stays. Maybe once he’s claimed this prize, he doesn’t want to give it up even though he’s tired and growing cold. Sometimes I lift him out and other times my scolding seems to motivate him to exit on his own.
Sounds nice, right. They have everything they need. Plus donkeys and goats to consort with during boring moments. And then something happened.
Two drakes ganged up on the third. Fine. Skirmishes happen. But it got worse. And worse. Duck number 3, now called Mister Duck, had the fluff on the back of his head pecked off. I had seen this before with the female ducks. The drakes peck the back of the females’ heads ferociously during mating. I call it over-mating. So, if you apply that cause-and-effect to Mister Duck, his days of bliss in the barnyard may have come to an end.
The head feathers were the tip of the iceberg for poor Mister Duck. He was so badly beaten that he had head tremors. And bleeding eyes. So I quarantined him in my hay room. For weeks. For longer. I would let him outside only when the other two drakes were inside. And sometimes I would let them out and keep him in. They would quack at each other’s doors. And sit together, an intervening door between them.
When you’re managing a farm of five mammals in two pastures, seven hens and three ducks in two locations, it’s complicated. It’s not efficient to play musical chairs with ducks. And if you have to leave the farm for a day or two, it’s near to impossible to explain the round-and-round logistics for keeping Mister Duck safe. Sigh.
As spring and its delicious green grasses emerged, it became sadder to keep any drake sequestered inside. So I began to experiment with letting Mister Duck join the others. An instant death match. Throat grabbing. To be separated only by a gentle-but-emphatic push with the dull toe of my muck boots.
I didn’t give up though. I started to mix and match ducks. Mister Duck and the smaller drake. Small face offs interrupted by a rake. And again. And then, they would settle in and go about the barnyard like synchronized swimmers. Then Big Duck and the smaller drake. Fine.
But three drakes is a recipe for disaster. I feel as if, in their spare time, these big-bottomed barnyard compatriots have somehow Netflixed The Good the Bad and the Ugly or Reservoir Dogs. They have the Mexican Standoff down to a T. In the final scene, the small drake holds a gun to Mister Duck’s head. Mister Duck aims his rifle at Big Duck who in turn points his pistol steadily at little drake’s heart. Fade to black.
xo, fg
From Wikipedia:
A Mexican standoff is a confrontation in which no strategy exists that allows any party to achieve victory. Any party initiating aggression might trigger its own demise. At the same time, the parties are unable to extricate themselves from the situation without suffering a loss. As a result, all participants need to maintain the strategic tension, which remains unresolved until some outside event or interparty dialogue makes it possible to resolve it.
The term Mexican standoff was originally used in the context of using firearms and it still commonly implies a situation in which the parties face some form of threat from the other parties. The Mexican standoff is a recurring trope in cinema, in which several armed characters hold each other at gunpoint. There is no definitive requirement that the confrontation involve at least three parties.
A note about this Substack, in case you are wondering why it’s here and how whatever it is I am doing fits (loosely) together:
Some people, like you, prefer to read stories about the Accidental Farm. This is where they will be for now. They used to be on a blog on my website, but meh. I have also shared them on Instagram. But now, also meh. I am moving them here. Just words.
I will continue to share photos and videos on Instagram from time to time if you need pictures to go with your words.
I also share stories on two podcasts:
The Accidental Farm Podcast is 5-minutes a day when it’s in season. The first season has 100 episodes. You will hear about Carl there and other furry and feathered characters too. Another season is coming, soon.
The Talk Farm to Me podcast is a longer, interview-based podcast where I share stories from serious farmers about their work and their lives with insights you can’t glean from chatting with them at the farmer’s market.
With all of these stories, I invite you to be “for farmers” in your daily actions, your hearts and am working toward building a community of US to show how we are for THEM in a way that makes them feel seen, heard and appreciated. More on this soon.
And a confession. I have a manifesto. It might tie all this together for you, or for me. For now it does. xo