I awoke this morning with a question from one of my followers, still on my mind. I know this person, and I know his sense of humor, so I can expect anything, when he responds to my posts. Most times, his responses gives me a little chuckle, and I go on with my day, but for some strange reason, this comment, made me feel foolish, and of course, no one likes to be made to feel foolish, especially, in the eyes of their peers.
His question was in regards to my post about my ducks. I had been working with the ducks for several weeks, in a sense, training them to eat on a regular schedule, to recognize the sound of my voice, and to expect food when I come near, shaking the container, letting them know I have food . I was confident they were ready to be released to the open pond, and when night fall grew near, I would go to them, shake the feed can, and call them up to eat, and they would go straight to their feeding spot, which was inside the pen where they were to spend the night, hopefully safe from predators.That is what I expected to happen. How was I to know, being my first experience with ducks, that they would find huge amounts of food of their liking, in and around the pond. They were in heaven. Eating something ravenously around the edges of the pond, for most of the day. We have no idea what they were eating. Possibly tadpoles or tiny fish. Heaven knows there were plenty of both. I don't know for sure what they found to eat, but that first day out, I am convinced they were to stuffed to care about the feed I was offering them to draw them into their pen. It worried me so much that they were still running loose in the night, that I went out a few times attempting to call them in, to no avail. Finally at midnight, I felt I would give it one more try.
I don't know what their reasoning was, but they seemed to be a bit more willing to come to their shelter. Possibly the darkness and not knowing what wild things might be lurking in the night. It was pitch dark, my flashlight batteries had run completely down, so in the very dim light of the moon, after numerous attempts, I wadded out in the edge of the pond, petrified as to what might be lurking in that dark water, with a long cane pole and corralled them into the pen. With a big sigh of relief, and the clock now well past midnight, I headed back to the house to rest easier for the remainder of the night, knowing they were, hopefully, a little more safe from harm.
So now Homer Hornback, if you are reading this you will know what I expected to happen.