Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

eight little ducks

Six little ducks
That I once knew
Fat ones, skinny ones,
Fair ones, too
But the one little duck
With the feather on his back
He led the others
With a quack, quack, quack…

I used to sing that song to my kids when they were small. It didn’t really have much significance at the time, other than the fact that it created a bit of a love affair between my children and ducks. At their insistence, I sang the song over and over again until I started making up my own lyrics to hold my interest. I even sought out new duck songs to keep things exciting. I started taking them to the local pond to feed bread to the ducks every chance I got. I spent more time quacking than talking, it seemed.

And today, the song flooded back to me in a rush as I collected our new baby ducks from the farm store, and carted them home (peeping the whole way).

Someone told me that ducks make people happy, and I couldn’t agree more. Everyone living under my roof found themselves thoroughly enchanted by those eight baby ducks and their duckling shenanagans. It’s moments like these when I remember how much I love living on a farm. I can almost put away the sarcasm while do dishes (because my dishwasher is STILL not connected to the water) or while I peer down the creepy basement stairs, longing to have easy access to my washer and dryer. Or even when I climb into my ancient shower, shuddering at the thought of another daddy longlegs falling on me while I wash my hair. Well, maybe not THAT…but the rest is all good.

I have baby ducks now. Life is pretty amazing.

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