I am seriously beginning to doubt my sanity. Ducks? What was I thinking? And not just any ducks…Indian Runner ducks. It would appear I acquired the most skittish, nervous, panic ridden ducks out there. Add to that a serious case of Houdini-itis, and I’m stuck with seven jail-breaking ducks that give Rain Man a run for his money.

I wake up each morning to find the ducks have escaped their pen again. I bring them food, fresh water, refill their baby pool, and chase them across the yard for nearly an hour until I’ve managed to trick them into wandering back to the promise land. It’s not bad enough they’re terrified of me, they can’t seem to figure out which way leads to safety. They run on a collision course with danger just to avoid me and my promise of food and water.

Stupid little ducks.

I’ve tried to find the escape route, to no avail. My husband just rolls his eyes and shrugs, content to leave them to their own accord. I can’t do that. I see my mastiff eyeing them like a nice duck dinner. I know he wants to give chase. but I also know my little quackers have no sense of self-preservation. They bob when they should weave. They surge when they should retreat. They are so toast if the dog, and his massive paws, get close.

So I run around my yard, corralling ducks and taunting the dog with blocks of expensive cheese. My husband thinks I’m nuts, but what’s new. As long as no one shows up with a video camera while I’m out there, I guess they can live.

The little ducks, on the other hand…I’m not so sure about them. Those crazy bowling pins with eyes are making me appreciate the chickens more and more every day. I think I might try turkeys next…they couldn’t be worse than ducks, right?

Until the next time…I’ll be hunting ducks!

You know how baby ducks will follow whoever happens to be there when they hatch? This phenomenon can apparently be transferred to humans.

My three little baby ducks…errr…Goonies…errr…neighbor boys spent the day in my back yard again. Oh, they earned their twenty dollars doing a lot of yard work. But when they weren’t mowing their initials in the neighbor’s yard (oh, yes…they did!) or hacking through the thick brush with machetes (because what teenage boy doesn’t fantasize about slashing this way through the jungle with a big knife?) or sneaking cigarettes near the fire pit (don’t get me started on that one!) they were at my back door asking for water…or paper towels…or to visit the dogs, the chicks, the teenagers…you name it.

Yesterday, I worried their mother was missing them while they were gone.

Today, I suspected she squealed with glee as she collected her bath oils and thickest towels to camp out in her bath tub while they were gone. In fact, I suspect she woke them early and reminded them they had grass to mow and brush to cut at my house today.

But all things aside, they were a joy to have around. Other than being typical pre-teen and teenage boys, they were fairly well behaved and good-mannered. Of course, my standards are those of a brusque, vulgar Yankee (per my Southern in-laws) so I may not be the best judge. I certainly didn’t have to worry about corrupting them with newly learned swear words…they appear to know them all (as most teenagers do.)

I did have to draw the line when they came for the evening bonfire smuggling beer in water bottles (I made them pour it down the drain immediately) and reminded them that I may cuss like a sailor, but I’m not in the business of corrupting minors (or encouraging illegal activities).

They didn’t put up a fuss, and I imagine that beer was as hard to get as the liquor in Superbad (forgive the shameless movie reference, but it’s a favorite of mine, and fitting under the circumstances.)

You might suspect I sent them packing after the beer incident, but I didn’t. I secretly congratulated them on a valiant attempt at fooling me (but you’d have to get up way earlier in the morning for that, boys!) and sent them on a mission to find brush to burn in the fire pit. After all…their spring break is almost over, and a nice bonfire never hurt anyone. Um…but just in case, I sent the husband, the daughter, and the daughter’s boyfriend to supervise.

I had a very important blog to write.

Until the next time…I’ll be waiting for the Goonies next adventure to unfold.