We loved our little ducks so much. They tripled in size within a few weeks. I suggested the kids take them out of there cage, in the dark garage, and let them swim on the pond. I knew it would make them so happy. They swam all day long and they loved it. When the night came, Sierra went out to the pond and called them back to her. There are several predators that live near our home and we all knew they would not be safe on the pond at night. The ducklings wouldn't listen. She begged them but they wouldn't listen. She chased them from one end of the pond and then the other. They were too fast. She couldn't catch them. Finally, I suggested that if we couldn't catch them maybe a fox couldn't either. We went to bed and woke up to one duckling. Sierra was desperate. She got out a floaty and went out on the pond and tried to catch it. She wanted to swim after it, but there is a ton of gunk and crawdads in the pond and she couldn't. She chased that duck all day and when the night came the duckies fate was secure. She cried and said I am its mommy and it won't listen. I have raised it and cared for it and it won't listen to me. Why??? She cried some more. It was going to die. The next morning we woke up to no ducklings on the pond.
There was a chicken that was also very loved. It was different than the rest of our chickens. It was white. We only have one other chicken and it has turned rouge and is living in the bushes out on the property. Because this little chicken was different than the other chickens, they pecked her near to death. You could see her skull. Chickens are like that. They see flaws in other chickens and they don't like it. Although, this chicken was lean and beautiful and perfectly white, to them it was different and so they started pecking. When Sierra found the chicken, it was living on scraps out in the yard, dying slowly. She cried and wrapped it in a blanket. She made a bandage for its head. She put ointment on its head and wrapped it. She carried it around like a baby. She watched television with it and held it. She even made a special bed for it in the corner of the living room. (It wandered off the bed and pooped on my living room floor. I kicked them both out.) She went out in the yard and cried some more. At one point she felt like it would be better if her daddy put the poor thing out of its misery but she couldn't go through with it. She said, "Do you think it will live?" I said, I didn't know. She made it a special home and every night when the other chickens went into the hen house, she would gather this white hen up and carry it to its special home. Slowly the hen's head began to heal. Slowly the hen got strong. You would never know looking at the hen today that it ever suffered such trauma, all because of the love of a little girl. I and Sierra were noticing the other day that our little white hen is the leanest and fastest hen in the yard. I think because of her prayers and love that Heavenly Father gave the little white hen the gift of speed. It has become super fast. You should see it zigzag in and out of the other chickens. We always giggle.
We now have turkey's we bought them from a friend. The Bishops have bragged to us several times about the turkeys they raised and smoked for Thanksgiving dinner. I thought it would be fun to do the same thing. I have called the turkey's Thanksgiving and Christmas since we brought them home. I don't think they are ever going to make it to the table. The girls have fallen in love with those stupid, ugly turkeys too and they both say I will have to go through them first.
I love the beautiful life lessons my children are learning from living on a farm. I love this beautiful simple life we live.
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