The Mallard Widows

Several years ago The
Bad Lois gave me six
ducks, which she had
been using to train her
herding dogs for trials.
There was one Mallard
drake, two Mallard
hens, two Rouen hens
and a spotted one, we
never knew what it
was. They were
intimidated by the
geese, and kept to
themselves. They
bathed and ate apart,
slept together in a
huddle, never flew
although they could
have. After the year of
the weasel, the group
was down to five:
Lame Duck, which we
called the drake since
his deterioration from
sexual excesses, and
his four hens. The
next year I built an
enclosure surrounding
the old cab over
camper that was here
when we came. It is
about one acre of
relatively flat wooded
land with oaks,
manzanita, rock
outcrops and a pool
emptying into a ditch
which runs out of their
pen, down through the
horses� winter pasture
and into the asparagus
patch a third of a mile
toward Lois The
Good�s place. The
pool is above ground
and is fed constantly by
an overhead shower I
rigged up on top of the
fence. The birds nest
in the camper, which
sleeps four and has a
working kitchen, but
only use it during
nesting season. The
rest of the time it is
occupied by those
fucking squirrels.
Between the time we
moved the birds to the
new place, and the
rodents figured out
what had happened,
the grain consumption
went down by 75
percent. Gradually the
thieves tunneled into
the pen, and we had to
buy more and more
sacks each week.

When Lame Duck died
of what I am sure was
exhaustion caused by
nonstop mating, the
hens were
confounded. No
husband to roost with
them, no leader of their
pack, no sex no sex no
sex. They were noisy
and restless and
bickering. Finally I
asked my friend Bobbi
for help. She has a
flock of mixed birds
everything from a turkey
to tame doves.
Hundreds of birds.
She gave me Webster,
who the girls
embraced and who
served as their faithful
mate until he, too, was
found cold and stiff one
January morning. the
Goose Guy says he
probably lost his
insulation and froze in
the snow; I think the
hens did it again, killed
their husband. By now
there were only three,
one had escaped right
into the jaws of Jackal
Dog. Webster had
been a Muscovy duck
three times the size of
the hens, brightly
coloured and voiceless
except for a
click-and-hiss thing he
used to direct them.
Once again I called
Bobbi.

Webster�s brother was
available, and had
been treated badly by
others in his flock. He
had no tail feathers,
looked rumpled and
was very shy. We
named him Ravi Duck.
At first he wouldn�t even
look at the hens and
occupied himself with
obsessive bathing and
bug eating. He would
take an elaborate bath,
getting all the nooks
and crannies clean,
then get out and flap
and strut, not being
able to quack or honk.
As soon as he was
dried, he would get
back in and do it again.
This could go on for
hours each day. After
moulting season he
grew a magnificent tail
and from that time until
now he has been the
proud master of his
little harem. The hens
follow him slavishly,
sleep near him, stay
where he puts them if
he wants time off,
succumb to his sexual
demands without
complaint. This year
two of them shared a
nest of about two
dozen eggs, which he
sat on from time to
time. None hatched
(none of the birds
reproduced this year)
but the family remains
closely bonded.

Where The Bad Lois
used to live before she
escaped to Arkansas
one step ahead of the
Sheriff, a couple of gold
miners moved in after
living at their claim
down on the river for
eighteen years. Yes,
you can make enough
gold mining to buy
acreage in very
desirable forest. Lou,
the female of the
couple, started a
menagerie to make up
for all the years she
had no place of her
own. There are pigs,
goats, seven kinds of
chickens, pea fowl,
Guinea fowl, geese,
ducks, dogs, cats, and
that is just in the yard.
In the house, and in the
back forty, there are
critters I have not met.
One of their waterfowl
is an African gander
with uncommon
feathering and an
extremely long neck,
nearly like a swan. He
is the usual grey,
brown and white, but
looks like he is
wearing a tank top. I
have not seen another
goose like him. He is
a screamer, having a
vocal range of two
octaves and a decibel
level that goes beyond
human hearing. They
couldn�t stand him
because of the
constant honking, and
because he sexually
pursued their ducks,
ignoring the geese. I
said I would love to
have him; he is so
beautiful and I am
used to the honking.
So, I brought him home
in the car it was quite a
trip but I am recovering
my auditory
capabilities.

When introduced into
the pen, there were the
ritual greetings,
circling, neck
stretching, pecking,
hissing, etc. The other
geese (six) left him
alone and went off to
gossip about it. Ravi
Duck, followed but not
closely be his girls,
approached and made
submissive gestures.
The new guy was
somewhat
condescending but
allowed Ravi to show
him around: Here is
where I take a bath,
here is where I sleep,
here is the best bug
catching area, oh and
these are my wives.

Within four hours, the
Mallard Widows had
kicked Ravi Duck to the
side of the road and
gone for the taller,
handsomer guy. With
seemingly no effort on
his part, he conquered
the hens and made
them his. Now they
follow HIM slavishly,
sleep with HIM, give he
choice food bits to HIM.
Ravi waddles
pathetically at the rear,
trying not to care. He
now sleeps alone in
the wet spot where the
bamboo garden will be
as soon as I have time
to go down to Chinese
and cut some roots.
Waiting, waiting,
waiting. Is is so sad it
makes me want to cry.
I think about calling
Bobbi, but fear the
outcome if I get another
duck. If it is a female,
and goes to the new
guy instead of Ravi, it
will be awful. If it is a
male, and either takes
the hens for himself, or
goes to the new guy
himself, it will be awful.
I am perplexed.
Meanwhile, the bird
social structure is
contrary to any
expectations.

The new guy has no
name. I always wait
until there is an
indication from the
creature to name it.
They always give clues,
and sometimes it is
just obvious what the
name should be. I
finally decided that the
first Sorabjite who,
without cheating,
knows who the real
Ravi Duck was, can
name the new guy.

there may have been
something i was supposed to
glean from all that. like clues
in a mystery to which i'm
supposed to be paying
attention. well, i'm too
impatient for that and i
conspicuously lack any real,
driving hunger for answers
regarding such matters.
however, i do like ducks and
i've always thought that "bill"
would be a great name for a
male duck. it's not as spicy or
exotic as ravi and lois the
good but, in certain special
circumstances, the obvious or
mundane can be the only
perfect choice.

like a 150 lb. mastiff named
spike. it just works.

bill. that's my suggestion.

I like Edward. Or Fuck. FuckDuck. But then, I'm not very sensible. After all my cats are named Troll, Bear, and Little Fergus Monster meow~meow.

How about Rasputin?

swine management is a myth.

http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=swine+management

The Life of the Swine

To get a first hand idea,
I interviewed farmers of
Fisher, Indiana, who
breed swine. According
to them "Swine is
cheaper to breed,
since it� does not
require pasture, it can
live on manure and
other such items
including dead meat.
In fact, it can even eat
its own feces.

Their sexual habits are
also different from
other animals like cow,
sheep and goat. Swine
have very little shame
i.e. engage in sex acts
anytime and in any
place. The female hog
is very aggressive in
sexual activities when
she is in "heat" she
does not care about
anything (i.e. food or
privacy) until she has
the sex. They i.e.
swine, also lick the
genitals of their
partners after sex like
dogs, but not other
mammals like cow,
sheep or goat."

I read it on the internet,
so it must be true. this
explains everything.

fup duck, book of name 'fup' jim dodge teaches at csu humboldt.

i'd name a duck "trip." i used to know an undertaker named trip. it was on his business card - something "trip" something, undertaker. i can't remember his real name now, but the first name might've been darryl[sp.?].

it's a good name for an undertaker. you know.

ducks too.

He (the new guy) is not
a duck. He is a goose
(actually a gander). I
guess that wasn't clear
in the story.

Bill is a great name for
a duck, especially if
there are fifty or so
ducks. You can just
call "Bill" and get
everyone's attention.

Clearly none of you
know the real Ravi
Duck.

Twerp?

"also lick the
genitals of their
partners after sex like
dogs"


thinking thats really really sweet

Me too, being as it would be real hard to go out and buy a douche bag.And even if the critters could get one,how would they fill them up?

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wondering if people actually use those devices...

It was obvious to ME it was a goose, because I read what you said, the whole thing, even in all its narrow formattedness.

If someone could invent an invention that would automatically remove the "carriage returns" at the ends of lines of cut-and-pasted Internet paragraphs, they'd be a hero, they'd go down in history, their fortune would be made...

dialing in from a hospital room. This laptop is so flaky and the dialup connection so slow that I'm not even going to try to play scrabble until I get home. Just giving warning. I'm o.k., they're just being uffish about a little infection. I have one of those beds that rears up and rearranges itself, subtly, every 15 minutes or so. I need root beer.

no, it's not twerp. twerp died, didn't he? and twerp was a goose.

Two trains, two railroad tracks. One goin' , and the other one commin' back.
Click Clack. Click Clack
I get down on the ground, my ears stand up when I hear that sound. Click Clack Click Clack

getting ready to go to Cape Cod again, for a 3-day weekend of fishing, oystering and clamming. Weather's supposed to suck though. Definitely going to take the Orient Point Ferry to New London -- no way I'm sitting through that traffic nightmare getting out of NYC. That's what sucks about living on Long Island -- to get out of here, you've gotta go through or skirt NYC first.

nelly!

you okay?

mark, please update the webcam. let's see how nyc is doing. thanx.

joe, please shut the fuck up. thanx.

Nelly,I hope your o.k.,I hate hospitals and I'm always extra nice to everyone when I'm in one in case some crazy doctor or nurse try to take me out.You know I'm paranoid though.

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just got in to Columbus from South Carolina. bleah. Summer there, fall here. I can't believe I just spent a month in South Carolina, in a house on a sea island.

Last night we were on the beach, and there were bats fucking on the beach. No stop to the weirdness down there. It will be good to go back in the winter.

So how's everyone?

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Back home at my fast computer. Thanks for messages of concern. I was extra nice to the doctors and nurses, and especially the nursing assistants or "clinical partners" as they are now called. Wondering if they now get a percentage of the profits... Got my root beer. Time to sleep some more now. I got addicted to it, and unfortunately, am also having withdrawal symptoms for the tv over the bed with cable...
Semillama, a month in a house on a South Carolina sea island sounds like absolute heaven. I spent a summer on Hilton Head and several weekends on Isle of Palms. Both of them are more developed now than before, but I still wouldn't turn down an offer from someone who lived on either one. Jekyll Island (Ga.) is a good one too. I'm going to dream about long walks on the beach at night.

looking forward to hearing the "Been Loudens" at CBGB's tonight! I haven't had any real action since that "kidnapping" back in the 70's

http://www.trustfund.com

heather, i apologize. i forgot my place. i forgot that, as an outsider, i have nothing valuable to offer. i realize that your insight regarding the feelings of new yorkers is deeper than any of us could hope to understand. therefore, i will withhold my comments. i will not post to wayd again until you do. i look forward to reading your meaningful remarks. thanx.

Sorry to see that Joe was dumped on again for no apparent reason. Although, look at the source. Lashing out at others seems to be quite the bad habit of her highness...to bad there is no taste, class, or intelligence to any of those rude outbursts.

Silent treatment can only last so long. Let's see whatcha got, Queen Shit. Hopefully it'll be much better than your last weak attempt by posting that link of my activity from way long ago.

No one is an outsider here. Yes they try and claim ownership of this fine site...kinda like squatters but the same rule applies...everyone is welcome, regardless of the piss poor self- appointed welcoming committee.

Oh yeah, Good morning and have a peachy day!

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Did anyone catch the Ben Loudans last night at Max's ? I payed in advance and like a dolt, I went to the wrong club.