New Series - Life in the country - Funny stories of 'why I had to get rid of....'

New Series - Life in the country - Funny stories of 'why I had to get rid of....'

Posted by Wendy Bode on 20th Jan 2018

I am a member of a facebook group for just women that have a hand in agriculture of some kind.  These range from owning large cattle operations, dairy farms and farming to horse owners or even chicken owners.  It's a wide range of ladies and a wide range of life experiences and knowledge.

I have learned so much from these ladies - practical advice as well as the how do I deal with meddling in-laws.  But this week - WOW, has it been entertaining.  I asked the ladies for permission to post a few of these stories - they need to be shared.  

My intention is not to embarrass anyone and I hope I don't offend anyone.  I'll try to post a new one every day or two, there are just SO MANY...

If you have one - please email it to me - I would love to share it with our Lazy B Friends.


I'll start with my own.

When I was a teenager, I am thinking about 12, but dang, that was a LONG time ago.  We had a few ducks and chickens as well as our horses.  There was ONE duck, a muscovy duck, named Clyde.  (I put a sample photo of what a muscovy duck looks like below).  Clyde was huge, or at least he seemed that way to me.  

Clyde HATED me - and only me.  

Our barn was located about 50 yards from the house and Clyde would stand next to the house as soon as he heard me come out on the porch and wait for me to step off the porch and attack.  And by attack, he would bite me, HARD.  and duck bites are brutal.  They don't have teeth, but they do have little grooves in their beak and they leave horrible bruises.  He could reach my finger-tips (which were his favorite) and the calves of my legs, right behind my knees.  

So I learned to try to avoid him, I would try to sneak out the back door, but he learned that trick and would stand on the wall side between the front and back doors and catch me.  Then I started stealth walk along the wall of the porch and slowly and quietly closing the door so he couldn't hear me.  Get to the edge of the porch, and run like a crazy person, flapping my arms and screaming to keep him a few feet away from me until I got to the barn gate and tried to get in before he could get through there too.

Apparently my step-dad found this way too funny - he made a wooden cutout of a girl running with waving braids - and that DAMN duck chasing her.

I don't miss Clyde.