We were startled out of bed at 2 am to the sound of popping and furious quacking. Since our duck (Issie) is our first line of defense against visitors (I know that that sounds anti-social), our first groggy thought was that our Yurt was being attacked. “Pop... quack quack quack... pop.” No night creature (of which we have lots) had ever made a sound even remotely similar. I’m usually not one to conjure up scary images at night, but my mind quickly went through the possibilities. Swamp creature, ghost, gangster, or alien. All seemed equally plausible. And the popping was either a form of communication, the sound of bull frogs being digested, or a laser gun prepping our Yurt for imminent attack. In an unusually brave mood, I got out of bed and went for my Machete (attackers beware, I keep it close to bed) and our super duper flashlight. Sokchea furiously whispered for me not to do it... But, with the periodic “pop” followed by furious quacking still going on, I had no choice but to prepare for battle to save Issie, my wife, and all of the other animal members of our Yurt.
I slowly opened the door, snuck out on to our deck, and then illuminated our yard with the super flashlight. Forty-three toad eyes shined defiantly back at me. Could it be that they were ammassing for battle? Then I heard the pop directly below me. It distinctly came from the small island we have in the middle of our pond. Since I was far beyond concealment, I quickly ran down the steps to get a better view of the island. And, then I saw it. For a split second it looked as if a demon gorilla had set up camp on the island. As the slow working innards of my brain finally turned over, I realized I was staring into the eyes of a boar. And then, in defiance of me, he put his head down and picked up one of the 14 eggs that Issie had been proudly brooding for the last three weeks. “POP,” as he crushes the nearly full term duckling in his mouth and Issie goes wild from my side of the pond.
I yelled at him as he took his time finishing the egg. He slowly turned around and literally dove into the water to swim to shore. And then he was gone. The only way to get to the island (without wading through the muddy bottom) is to walk across a single piece of bamboo that I keep for that purpose. I scampered across to find a pile of egg-shells and one remaining egg. Since Issie has never seen a duckling or been a mother, I’m not sure how well she understood what just happened. But, as mournful as a duck can be, she stood on the bank uttering the occasional quiet quack. She didn’t bother swimming back across that night, as she knew what awaited her. But, for most of the next day she just stood looking at the remains of her family.
I slowly opened the door, snuck out on to our deck, and then illuminated our yard with the super flashlight. Forty-three toad eyes shined defiantly back at me. Could it be that they were ammassing for battle? Then I heard the pop directly below me. It distinctly came from the small island we have in the middle of our pond. Since I was far beyond concealment, I quickly ran down the steps to get a better view of the island. And, then I saw it. For a split second it looked as if a demon gorilla had set up camp on the island. As the slow working innards of my brain finally turned over, I realized I was staring into the eyes of a boar. And then, in defiance of me, he put his head down and picked up one of the 14 eggs that Issie had been proudly brooding for the last three weeks. “POP,” as he crushes the nearly full term duckling in his mouth and Issie goes wild from my side of the pond.
I yelled at him as he took his time finishing the egg. He slowly turned around and literally dove into the water to swim to shore. And then he was gone. The only way to get to the island (without wading through the muddy bottom) is to walk across a single piece of bamboo that I keep for that purpose. I scampered across to find a pile of egg-shells and one remaining egg. Since Issie has never seen a duckling or been a mother, I’m not sure how well she understood what just happened. But, as mournful as a duck can be, she stood on the bank uttering the occasional quiet quack. She didn’t bother swimming back across that night, as she knew what awaited her. But, for most of the next day she just stood looking at the remains of her family.
And that is why we need a fence. Or at least a non-vegetarian with a gun.
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