Ducklings are cute. This statement is difficult to refute. Every year I hatch a few in a classroom, either mine or a friend's. The sixth graders who took over the incubator had great success, hatching chicks, quail, turkey poults, pheasants, and of course, ducklings. The challenge for me is the introduction of school raised poultry into the home flock. Each type of bird has its own method of working out a group dynamic, or if you will, a pecking order. Quail, for example, will eat any and all newcomers, the girls are particularly vicious.
Chicks hatched together form a cohort group. If undisturbed they will remain affiliated for their entire lives, with their own personal pecking order. Those chicks, introduced into a flock, will stick together for strength. The other chickens beat the snot out of them until order is restored. The new chicks hide under things, run like hell, sometimes even die of injuries inflicted by their own parents. Then one day, I go out to feed them and everyone is pals.
Turkey poults are mildly goofy. They need help learning how to eat, which requires a chicken infant to point out the location of the food and water. When introduced into the main population they wander aimlessly, oblivious to the poultry furor. Poults are flower children, gazing about in an acid haze. Turkeys raised by hand have a difficult time recognizing another turkey as a similar being. The longer they associate with people, the larger the problem. It took our old tom turkey Pete five years to notice a girl turkey, he was too fixated on me.
Ducklings are another issue entirely. They pop out of the shell looking like a fuzzy crocodile. Their feet are oversized and baby soft. From minute one they are endearing, making soft peeping noises. This all changes the moment they get near water. I have written about my belief that ducks are the reincarnated souls of hard core alcoholics, so I shall not bore you with those details. Enough said that ducklings worship water, fling themselves into it without a care, and believe that everyone around them should also enjoy the water.
If one makes the mistake of trying to keep any other baby poultry with ducklings, said babies will be treated to swimming lessons. Day old ducklings will seize a chick by its neck and go in the water. The end picture is a group of chilly, soaked chicks huddling as far as possible from the obviously mad ducklings. There is palpable relief amongst the non-ducks when they are removed to another location.
Ducklings imprint and are very comfortable being handled, even by an entire class of sixth grade students. Their recognition of people is so strong that one might believe the ducks would never adjust to being in the general population. Yet something strange happens when the ducklings entire the yard.
The main chicken yard includes about fifty adult chickens, a lady turkey, a lady peacock, or peahen, two guinea fowl, and a small flock of runner ducks. Runners are an old breed descended from the birds used by migratory Asian duck herders. These men and their ducks travel the countryside working as rice weeders. The ducks are tall and shaped like wine bottles, making it possible for them to wend their way through plants with minimal damage. Sheep farmers also use them to train border collie pups to herd as the ducks are fast and stick together.
This June was not the first time I have introduced ducklings, so I knew to stand by and watch. Five ducklings, each about eight inches tall, still fuzzy, still peeping, enter the yard. Cue the peahen, who instantly attacks any newcomer. The ducklings take this as a welcome and swarm around her. The peahen tries to peck, but they are too many. Horrified, she marches up the hill, followed by her new friends. The ducks take notice and form a group. This is usual, the ducks often form a quorum to discuss issues including whether or not to go out of the yard, who goes first in the pool, that sort of thing.
The ducks stand in a tight group, the ducklings have switched allegiances and are following a Blue Andalusian Hen. A single duck goes out as the emissary, quacking the 'come here stupid, you are one of us' quack. That duck goes as far as seizing a single duckling and dragging it, peeping madly, back to the quorum. Once released the duckling flails about, falling on its back. It only takes a moment for him to rush back to the other ducklings. The adults cluster together and cast glances at the herd of ducklings.
The rest of the day will go much the same. The ducklings will attach themselves to various poultry, never picking the adult ducks. Those adults will stay bunched up, occasionally sending out a feeler, or a grabber, never successful. Every so often the adults will go into the pool and splash noisily. There are moments when the ducklings get near the water, following their current leader, and I always expect there to be a moment of recognition. Yet when the hen or turkey or guinea fowl moves off, the ducklings always follow. This behavior lasts until sunset.
At night all the birds enter their little red house. One by one they roost in pre-selected locations, always the same, no variation. The ducks control the area close to the door, where they sit on the floor under the grain tub. Something odd happens once the ducklings enter the house. They always have trouble with the step up, falling backwards and popping wheelies the first few times. Once they get in, I close the door, and the adult ducks begin their brainwashing.
I have no idea what the ducks say at night, or how they accomplish such a complete turnaround despite numerous failures during the day. All I can say is that by morning all the ducklings exit the house as fully indoctrinated ducks. They stick to their flock like glue, peeping a different peep, almost a high-pitched quack. I can even let the adults out to groom the potato plants with no fear. The ducklings stick to the adults, even in the great outdoors. It takes twelve hours for the brainwashing. I imagine the ducks sitting in a circle, under the feeder, ducklings in the center, chanting 'resistance is futile.'