November 2, 2014 – I think I have a problem. The “romantical” kind. I really enjoyed talking to Francis the drake at our Halloween hootenanny Friday night, but I think he may have gotten the wrong idea. I took a stroll up to Yoga Rock this morning, and in doing so, passed by Frank and the other drakes swimming in their pool.
“Isn’t it too cold and blustery for swimming boys?” I asked the group. It was cold. We even had a trace of snow.
Eustace honked like a goose. “We’re ducks. Ducks don’t mind the weather.”
“The nastier the better!” agreed Leisl.
“I don’t mind the cold at all,” said Merida.
“Excuse me, Happy,” ventured Francis, “are your legs tired, ’cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.”
At first I thought his remark sweet, but before he allowed me to answer, he added, “I’m not trying to impress you or anything, but I’m BATMAN!”
Jameson, the drake named after the label on the cardboard whiskey box, broke into hysterics.
“She’s a hen, you dope! Hens can’t date drakes. It’s against the rules.”
“What rules,” asked Francis.
“The rules about being chickens and being ducks!”
“I’ve never read them,” Frank replied. “I’ll make up my own rules, thank you very much.”
It was awkward listening to them debate the matter and suddenly I wished that I had invited Sawyer or Peaches along with me.
“It’s been a treat talking with you guys, but I really need to check in on the bantams. So glad you’re making yourselves at home. I’ll catch you later.”
“Happy! Wait!” called Francis.
I should have kept walking, but that, I decided, would have been rude. I stopped and turned waiting for him to speak.
“I think you have something in your eye. Oh wait. It’s just a sparkle!”
I felt my face warm against the frigid bite of the wind.
The other drakes dunked Francis good naturedly under the water before pushing him out of the pool. I kept walking. I took the long way back to the coop avoiding the duck yard all together. When I got back to the henhouse, I approached Sawyer and quietly asked her a question.
“Is it my body or my mind that a drake might be attracted to?”
“One of the ducks has a crush on you?!” she bellowed in delight.
“SHHHHH!” I responded trying to quiet her before the other hens overheard. “It’s not funny! This could upset the entire balance of our poultry cohabitation!”
“Face it my friend. You are oozing with charisma. It has a pull that attracts all sorts of bright and shiny things. Including drakes named Francis.”
Then, she burst into uproarious merriment and left the coop in search of others to share the news.
Great. I may never be taken seriously again.