Humans accept duck into hearts and their home

By Keith Ross | The Daily Journal

Published Saturday, June 2, 2007

Welcome back to the bark side of life here in Ottertail where turtles cross the yard at breakneck speed.

Well, maybe not that fast but they march on with their mission of digging holes, laying, and fertilizing those all so precious eggs.

It is a treat to watch them do their perennial ritual of procreating life and completing the cycle that produces little baby turtles.

Speaking of eggs that are laid and then hatched, this week we have part one of a mini series about a very articulate duck named Daffy.

We have Berniece Dalluge of Fergus Falls to thank for this tale. Without further ado, here it is.

I am a duck

I am a duck. There has been some discussion about this among the people who knew me well. I was not like any other duck that anyone had seen. I preferred the company of people and a little poodle to that of other ducks.

Even if I am unique, the fact remains… I am a duck.

My earliest recollection was being cramped within a hard shell. It didn't allow for more than the slightest movement. Suddenly I could feel someone picking me up and tossing me.

As I landed, I felt my shell crack in several places, as I lay there stunned, I felt gentle hands pick me up and turn me over and over.

I could feel myself being carried for what seemed like a long while, because some time later I was laid on something soft and warm.

I began to pick at my shell. After several hours, I could see light and I could put my bill out of the hole I had made in the shell.

After hours of strenuous work, I finally got free of my prison and I could move around freely.

I was exhausted so I lay quietly for some time, just looking around and resting. After I had rested and gotten my down dried and fluffed up, I started moving around and nibbling on things.

The people I was with were very good to me. They gave me food and water and best of all, they let me swim at a very early age. It was so much fun, splashing in the water. As soon as I was strong enough they let me run on the floor and outside on the sidewalk and the lawn. I started following people around but sometimes I had trouble keeping up.

On June 6, 1970, my people picked me up, put me in a box and carried me out to the car. It started to move and at first it threw me off balance and I didn't like it, but soon I got used to it and it wasn't too bad.

After a short time, we arrived at our destination. I was taken out and given to some other people. Although I didn't realize it yet, this was to be my home for a long time.

There were six people in the family that I lived with now — a father, a mother, and four girls. They all liked me right away. They talked to me and played with me.

They let me nibble on their rings, hands, and even their faces. Nibbling was a thing that I did best.

They would put me on the floor and let me run. At first, I couldn't run too well as I was a little lame on one leg. But as the days went by, it improved and I didn't limp any more. (To be continued).

Next week we'll see what Daffy gets into and how he fits in with his new family. I may have to edit some of this to get it in our format.

Remember folks, the “best critter tales” contest is still under way and you still can submit your entry all through the summer.

We've had some really good ones so far and I'm sure that there still are some doozys out there just waiting to be told.

Send them to me via email at info@rosswoodkennels.com or write to me at Keith Ross, Richville, MN 56576 or you can phone it in too. Call me at 218-495-2195. I hope you had a very happy Memorial Day weekend.

Keith Alan Ross writes from his New York Mills home.