I have never had a pet, so you can imagine my excitement when a few summers ago we discovered we had a duck nesting in our backyard at the old house in Kentucky. I named her Gladys, and for weeks we saw her hunched over her eggs hiding under a tall grassy shrub. Then one day in early June we came home to a backyard full of chicks!
They were so cute. They hopped around the yard in a fluffly little cluster. They were small enough to jump through the chainlink fence, and we watched them test Gladys by going to the other side where she was too big to follow. Gladys would stick her beak through the chainlink trying to find a way to her brood (for some reason she would not fly over the fence to her youngsters). Then once she realized she couldn't get to them she'd quack a stern motherly quack that loosely translated surely meant, "That's it! You all get back here into the Wheeler's safe backyard right away by the time I quack to three or else..."
And the hilarious thing was that they all immediately would hop back through the fence and line up in a perfect single file line behind their momma. Then they'd walk along the fence together like this:
Why am I telling you all this? Well, when we bought the new house I was hoping for a new "pet" to observe. Our neighborhood has lots of lakes, wooded areas, even a natural wildlife preserve nearby. I was sure we'd have some visitors. We do... meet Stan, the worst pet ever:
He lives in a stump next to our grill. When it's sunny outside he likes to curl up and nap in a bright warm spot beside the patio. Matt named him Stan. I want nothing to do with him. In fact, I hate him. He is ruining my patio experience. I am constantly terrified that he will slither across my flip flopped foot while I'm trying to read a magazine in peace. Or that I will fall asleep in the hammock and wake up to a loud hiss right before he attacks me. According to the internet he is a harmless South Carolina garter snake, but my instincts know better than to let my guard down around a serpent. I miss Gladys and the ducklings.
They were so cute. They hopped around the yard in a fluffly little cluster. They were small enough to jump through the chainlink fence, and we watched them test Gladys by going to the other side where she was too big to follow. Gladys would stick her beak through the chainlink trying to find a way to her brood (for some reason she would not fly over the fence to her youngsters). Then once she realized she couldn't get to them she'd quack a stern motherly quack that loosely translated surely meant, "That's it! You all get back here into the Wheeler's safe backyard right away by the time I quack to three or else..."
And the hilarious thing was that they all immediately would hop back through the fence and line up in a perfect single file line behind their momma. Then they'd walk along the fence together like this:
Why am I telling you all this? Well, when we bought the new house I was hoping for a new "pet" to observe. Our neighborhood has lots of lakes, wooded areas, even a natural wildlife preserve nearby. I was sure we'd have some visitors. We do... meet Stan, the worst pet ever:
He lives in a stump next to our grill. When it's sunny outside he likes to curl up and nap in a bright warm spot beside the patio. Matt named him Stan. I want nothing to do with him. In fact, I hate him. He is ruining my patio experience. I am constantly terrified that he will slither across my flip flopped foot while I'm trying to read a magazine in peace. Or that I will fall asleep in the hammock and wake up to a loud hiss right before he attacks me. According to the internet he is a harmless South Carolina garter snake, but my instincts know better than to let my guard down around a serpent. I miss Gladys and the ducklings.
Oh wow Jen, I would not want Stan in my yard. You are brave!
ReplyDeleteI love the pics of Gladys and her chicks! Sorry about Stan - he would creep me out too.
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