What About A Duck Named Bob?

"He's doing it again," Mary sighed, rolling her eyes. 

I peered out the window at the duck coop. Sure enough, a male duck was standing in the doorway. There was a traffic jam of ducklings piling up behind him, trying to push their way through. The poor, oblivious duck stretched his neck and tilted his head, looking the doorway up and down, attempting to make sense of the opening before him. What was it? How did it work? Perhaps he should sit down and ponder it for a while. 

He hunkered down across the doorway just large enough for one duck at a time to pass through. Nineteen ducklings, trapped inside the coop, began quacking loudly for him to get out of the way. They wanted the food Joey had placed in their yard. They wanted to bathe in the large water tub, dunking their feathers and flapping their wings. They wanted out. This duck, however, wasn't moving. He seemed convinced there was no way to get to the yard from the coop.

Disgusted, Mary slipped on her shoes and headed outside. I watched from the window as she shoved the offender from his spot into the duck yard. The other ducks poured through the now unblocked doorway quacking their indignation as they passed by in their rush to get to the food. 

"We have to keep him, Mom," Joey pleaded beside me. "He's just too dumb. We can't eat him." 

We raise ducks and chickens for food. My children know this. They don't have a problem with it. Yet, here was my youngest son asking me to grant clemency to this duck, to change his status from farm animal to pet. 

"Joey, do you know what a pain it would be to keep him over winter? He'll be messier than your chickens. The coop will have to be cleaned out more often - in the freezing cold." 

"I know, Mom. It's just... I've already named him." 

Uh oh.

"His name is Bob."

"Why Bob?"

"You know, like in the movie, What About Bob?" 

In the movie, Bob Wiley is so afraid to leave his apartment, he had to talk himself into walking out the door. I had to admit, the name fit.

A short time later, Bob was moved into the chicken yard and we gathered around to see how the chickens would react. I was certain Bob would be bullied, but instead, Bob began to assert himself. He flapped his wings at the girls when they tried to peck him. He pushed through the feathered throng to join them at the food pan. He even chased a couple of them away from the water when they tried to keep him from it. After much clucking and quacking, chasing and flapping, the duck and the chickens settled down and ignored each other. Huh.

Bob then did something that surprised us all. He waddled up the ramp and into the coop. He waddled out of the coop and back down the ramp! Without prompting, without being pushed, he had figured out how to use the door! In and out he went without any hesitation. I briefly wondered if we had moved the wrong duck. A quick check showed that, no, this was indeed Bob. Again, huh.

Bob made himself at home with the chickens. The only time he appeared discontent was when the other ducks grew noisy. He would pace the fence, looking through the wire at the duck coop.

"I think he needs some girl ducks to keep him company." one of the children suggested. 

That was not going to go over well with their daddy. It had been hard enough to convince Matt to keep Bob. He bemoaned the loss of one duck dinner and I doubted he would agree to the loss of more. 

"One female," Matt conceded, scowling. 

Lucille joined Bob in the chicken yard. She was one I had kept an eye on from the beginning. Being the only Pekin with a tuft of feathers that "poofed" out of the top of her head, she was easy to spot. 

"You know that's a defect, right?" Was the only thing Matt said. 

Yes, I knew. Somehow it seemed fitting. Our family kept the misfits, the oddballs. Remember our pet asthmatic chicken? It's just how we were. Why change now? 

A few days later, another female duck was added to the chicken yard. Azula (named for an anime villain with a distinctive laugh) was a duck I had been looking forward to getting rid of. It's not that she was a mean duck or anything, but, well, her quack was... evil. I'm not even kidding. Many a time, a  horrendously loud, maniacal quack would pierce the noisiness of our daily routine, sounding for all the world like she had listened in to our conversation and determined all was going according to her evil plan. Oh, yes. That duck would have to go.

It was Alex who requested a stay of execution. He lobbied hard for her, listing the advantages of keeping her and promising to do any extra work required. He then gave me sad eyes for good measure. 

So, we have three ducks now. It's very entertaining.

And there's the story of how we ended up with a duck named Bob. Never a dull moment here at Cold Anchor Farm...

Chicken Joe

There's a new coop-keeper in town and he goes by the name of Chicken Joe. Older siblings, otherwise occupied, left the position wide open and Joe stepped in to fill the gap. 

It began with the arrival of our new Amish-built mini barn. 

How exciting!

In short order, the coop was readied for its new tenants, and Joe moved the chicks from the brooder box to their new home. He spent hours sitting on the coop floor, playing with the fluffy babies. I think he would have slept out there if I had let him. 

As the chicks grew, Joe noticed their individual personalities emerge and the naming process began. Asparagus, a Light Brahma, was the first to be named and Joe claimed her as his very own. She loved to climb from Joe's hand up to his shoulder to hang out, sort of like a pirate's pet parrot. 

The other Light Brahmas were named Buttercup, Louise, and Candice. Louise and Buttercup are sweet birds. Candice is a dork.

Clover, a Black Australorp, was by far the most curious about any humans who entered the coop. Her favorite pastime was (and still is) pecking at Joe's freckles. Joe's frequent and exasperated exclamation, "Clover!" amused me to no end. 

The other Black Australorps were named Wednesday, Frankie, and Pearl.

A Plymouth Rock (Barred Rock) named Tulip soon became Clover's sidekick. She followed Clover's lead and even now the two are together more often than not. 

The Plymouth Rocks are quite friendly. Joey gave Rosie the nickname "Sweetie" and Judy is almost as gentle. Gidget, on the other hand, is a feathery pain in the tush who won't leave my rings alone. She behaves well if she's picked up, though.

Marshmallow, a Gold-laced Wyandotte, was quickly identified by Joe as our only truly naughty chick. She is cranky. She pecks hard. Chicken Joe will have none of it. He catches her up and carries her around, scolding her all the while. It's the chicken version of "time out."

The other Wyandottes were named Hazel, Pidge, and Debbie. Hazel is my personal favorite. She loves to be petted. As soon as your fingers reach her black and gold feathers, she sits down, and leans into your hand, eyes slowly closing. 

My oldest daughter and her husband added a couple of Lavender Orpingtons to the mix. Thistle and Blue Moon are just a bit older than the other chicks and tend to stick to themselves. Shy or stuck up? Time will tell. They're certainly beautiful birds, with soft, fluffy, pale gray feathers.

Keeping all the chick names straight was a difficult task and Joe suggested we band them. Even the smallest bands were too big for their tiny legs, so we began with nail polish in a stripe on their legs - a different color for each chick. Of course, the polish wore off and Joey was relieved when they had grown enough to wear the bands.

One by one, the girls got their new jewelry. Chicken Joe was so very careful as he placed the colorful plastic bands on each chick. Tulip was one of the first. After banding, she and Joe had a little chat about it. He assured her that yellow was a good color and went nicely with her lovely feathers.

He eventually convinced her. Tulip sat on his shoulder and watched as he banded the other girls, softly clucking advice into his ear. Afterward, Joe and I hung a sign in the coop yard that identified the chicks by breed and band color. He thinks the chicks like it.

(I'm not sure if you can make out the duck on the painted sign. 

Stay tuned. The duck story is coming soon.)

Chicken Joe has taken on his new role with much enthusiasm and it's a pleasure to watch. I think this is the beginning of something wonderful.

Tulip agrees.

Left, Wright, and Ghost

"Mom, there are kittens in the corn crib!" one of my brood hollered to me from the field behind the house. By the time I got out to look the mama cat had hidden her babies and it would be several days 'til I had the chance to see them for myself. 

Mama Cat is feral and though we have witnessed her out hunting, none of us have been able to get close to her. The babies, on the other hand, are gradually getting used to us. They like to hang out in our garage. 

There are three of them. I named them. (Of course, I did.) They are Left, Wright, and Ghost. 

Left and Wright are almost mirror-images of each other. The biggest difference being Wright has a tiny pink nose. Left is the friendlier of the two. I've been able to hold him and pet him and even bring him briefly into the house. I might have tried to keep him there if not for the disapproving look on my husband's face. Perhaps I'll convince him in the end...

Wright and Left. Aren't they adorable?

Ghost has a spectacular lightning bolt on her face and is larger than the other two. So much larger, in fact, I suspect she is from a previous litter and has chosen to stay with her mama longer than her littermates. She will tolerate my petting her while she's eating, but barely. Ghost has the makings of a good hunter and the best way to get her attention is to trail a string or long blade of grass on the ground in front of her. She moves noiselessly about the garage and freezes when you spot her. Don't look away! She disappears in the blink of an eye.

Ghost

Our farm is that much livelier with the presence of these tiny wanderers and I've become quite attached to them. I do hope they decide to stay.  

Special Delivery

I look forward to this day each year.
With excitement, I hear the truck rumble up our driveway. After directing him to the spot, I stand back and watch the driver, one claw-grab at a time, unload an impressive cargo. 

At first glance, one might think he is merely unloading logs. The truth is, he's actually unloading 

the sound of a chainsaw, 

a swinging sledgehammer, 

hours of work, 

splinters, 

and the occasional smashed finger. 

He's unloading a competitive spirit. Who can carry the heaviest armload? 

He's unloading warm toes and cozy bedrooms, 

"discussions" of the ideal thermostat setting, 

and the scent of woodsmoke. 

He's unloading peace of mind and a sense of security for the upcoming winter.

It's easy to forget the chill of winter winds on days like this, but we all know it will be here in the blink of an eye.

Even In A Salon

I unlock the door and begin flipping light switches. Everything is still, but the quiet won’t last long. The open sign will come on, the phone will start ringing off the hook, and voices will sound throughout the building. I welcome all of it.

You see, I’ve changed my mind. 
I once thought a place like this simply wasn’t for me. A dedicated do-it-yourselfer and generally not-fussy person, I rarely entered a beauty salon. 
Then, I found myself looking for work.

Our old farmhouse was in need of serious repair and rather than getting a loan, my husband and I decided I could work outside the home a few hours a week to help cover the costs. Of course, we prayed about it first, but I’m ashamed to admit I had little hope I’d find anyone willing to hire me, prayers, or no. I’d been out of the workforce since our first child was a baby – over twenty years! I now realize God had a plan and it no longer surprises me how everything lined up so perfectly.

It happened fast. Within a week’s time, I was answering phones and setting appointments for a local salon. It was more complicated than I expected, but my boss, Laurie, and my new coworkers were amazingly patient with me as I learned the computer system, the routines, and details of over thirty different services offered.

I find it difficult to be away from home. Being a wife and mother is my primary vocation. I told God that if I was to spend time away from my family, I didn’t want it to be just about money, rather I hoped He would give me opportunities to serve Him wherever I happened to be, even in a salon.

Even in a salon…

If only I had known.

Working at the salon quickly became more than just a job to me. I discovered that this place is about so much more than the externals of cuts and colors, nails, and lashes. For many, it's an island of warmth in an increasingly cold world.

Milestones are marked within these walls. 
In the time I have been here, I have watched squirmy little ones get first haircuts. 
I have seen brides prepare for their momentous day. 
I’ve been present as the entire shop gathered around someone who'd received bad news, offering concern and support. 
I've been warmed by the sight of someone getting a haircut before a big job interview, or young ones dressing up for their first dance.
I have witnessed elderly, whose memory has failed them, relax with the routine that's somehow still familiar to them. 

There is tremendous, hands-on love and care in this place.

The salon reflects it's owner. The way Laurie treats those entering her shop shows me that, more than business, her priority is caring for people. It’s why she does what she does.

One example of this is when Laurie found out some of her clients who were diabetics or on blood thinners were going to various nail salons for basic foot care (not a safe option!) because the local hospital no longer offered the service. She worried about the health of those clients, so she found the RN who used to do it at the hospital and hired her to provide the service here.

There are many extras I witness her doing quietly for others, things most people will never even know about, but I notice. Laurie truly cares about the welfare of those around her. The clients who find themselves in her chair are friends whether it’s the first visit or they’ve been coming for years.

I can say the same for the other stylists. They are all extremely skilled, hard-working people, who take their profession seriously. 
They are creative. 
They fix things. 
They bring out a person’s beauty. 
They make people feel good. 
And, like therapists without the couch, they listen - giving  sympathy and comfort, or laughter and congratulations as their clients share the happenings in their lives. They are kind, and funny, and sometimes a bit sassy. I genuinely like each of the women I work with.

I only ever see the other receptionists as we change shifts, but even in those few minutes, we can laugh together about the ridiculous stuff that happens to us while trying to care for so many things at once. They are pretty awesome.  

For myself, I get to welcome so many people each day I’m here. I get to smile, to look them in the eye and call them by name, to ask how they are. I get to show people that they matter. I get to help. I have encouraged, comforted, prayed with, and for, folks I wouldn’t have met otherwise. It’s such a gift to me and I'm grateful.

It’s been two years now. The home improvement project that started it all is going well and the worst of it has already been tackled. There are still days it’s hard for me to leave home, but I know God has a purpose for everything, and this time - is time He is using. I am content here.

Even in a salon.

Independence Day 2020

God of our fathers, whose almighty hand

Leads forth in beauty all the stary band

Of shining worlds in splendor through the skies,

Our grateful songs before Thy throne arise.

Thy love divine hath led us in the past,
In this free land by Thee our lot is cast;
Be Thou our ruler, guardian, guide and stay,
Thy Word our law, Thy paths our chosen way.

From war's alarms, from deadly pestilence,
Be Thy strong arm our ever sure defense;
Thy true religion in our hearts increase,
Thy bounteous goodness nourish us in peace.

Refresh Thy people on their toilsome way,
Lead us from night to never-ending day;
Fill all our lives with love and grace divine,
And glory, laud, and praise be ever Thine.