So long Quackee Duck

Last Easter, I decided it would be a fun idea to get the girls pet ducks, which by the way, was no mean feat. I drove a 60mile round trip in the hopes of finding one from one of the farms close by, but none could be found. there were chickens a plenty, but no ducklings. eventually I found a lady who was looking to rehome her ducks who were 'just at the point of lay'. This seemed perfect- no incubators or mothering, just three gorgeous ducks- 1 of which was an Aylesbury pure breed (Think of the gossiping ducks from Disney's Aristocats!). When they got to the farm I quickly realised that the lady may have told a tall tale or two, since the 'ducklings' were massive!

Needless to say, the ducks have not laid a single egg since they got here, so I think it's safe to assume that they are mature ducks. It was therefore only right to give them mature names- Queen Priscilla, Lady Quack a lot and Quackee Duck.

The little ladies became instantly smitten and chose a duck each. All summer we had a blast watching them interact, try to escape and follow us around, and quickly referred to their outings as 'duck tales'.

Last week, after college, I thought I'd give them a bit of splash time in the puddles on the drive - a favourite of theirs. Only to find when I opened up their door, that only the two white ducks came out to play. It was getting pretty dark, so I assumed that the black and green drake would follow shortly, but after the floodlights came on, I still couldn't see him.

After careful inspection of the duck house, I discovered him lifeless.Cue: a grown woman stood in the middle of the gardens in the pouring rain, wearing a dress and wellies crying over a duck. I'm still fairly new to this rural living lark, I had no clue what to do with a dead duck. nor what I should tell the littlest lady about the whereabouts of 'her' drake.

A quick SOS call to my dad confirmed we should bury him.

I got myself collected and went to break the news to the girls.

Littlest lady got pretty upset and so big girl took her upstairs to play and take her mind off it. Sisters are a gift! However, ten minutes later, she came downstairs sniffling and climbed on my lap to ask me this very important question...

"Mammy, is my du-du-duck in Hereford?"

(You should know that this was an insanely cute moment and I did such a great job of holding in my amusement at this sad time.)

"Um, no baby, he's not in Hereford. He's in Heaven."

"When is he coming back?"

"He's not babe, he's gone to Heaven for good."

"Is he eating a happy meal there? "

"Um, I don't really know what they eat in Heaven babe, but probably not..."

"C said you get a Mcdonald's in Heaven...?"

At this point, big girl appeared with her hands on her hips and said with a flick of her hair,

"Um yeah you do, you get a drive thru on the way, what else are you going to munch on the journey?!"

Seriously, these kidlets are my joy.