About five days ago I told you about the ducklings that recently hatched here. The mallard hen hatched three, from a clutch of eight eggs. I was allowing the ducklings to remain with their mom at least for the time being.
The day after I shared that story, the two other ducks who are brooding another clutch together hatched one of their own. I could hear it pipping, and later peeping, but couldn't get a look because both it's moms were guarding it like a dragon would it's hoard of gold. Seriously, the glaring, snapping, and hissing with wings spread and necks outstretched were worthy of Smaug himself. Then the mallard brought her three out to eat and drink, and while outright warfare didn't break out, tensions were clearly rising.
The mallard hen was not happy about it. She came out of the corner where her nest was, swam in the pool I put out there for the ducks, chowed down on the scratch and layer crumble, and walked around grumbling for a while. Then she returned to the remaining eggs in her nest.
The following day we had a drenching thunderstorm. When I went outside to check on everyone, I discovered that the lesbi-hens had retreated with their first hatchling to the very back of the Quackhouse. Leaving the recently hatched second baby lying alone, soaked and feebly trying to get up. I tried moving it closer to it's moms, and one reached out with her bill and actually pushed the baby away.
I knew that there was a possibility that this duckling would not make it, but I had to at least try. At first it just laid there; if I hadn't seen it's sides moving as it breathed, I'd have assumed it had died. But little #5 rallied. The first three accepted their new sibling, and all was warm, cozy, and friendly in the brooder.
The fourth duckling was still outside with it's two moms. Who were still zealously guarding it, and sitting on the remaining eggs. Night came, the rain let up some, and everything was calm. A little before bedtime, I stepped outside. And heard an uproar out there. I grabbed a flashlight and went to take a look. It was very dark, muddy and slippery. Chaotic with yelling, flapping birds. I figured that, after a couple years with no problems, a predator had finally shown up.
I was right. It was a big black yellow-ringed kingsnake. And it was almost upon the remaining duckling. I generally like snakes, and usually leave them alone when I happen upon them outdoors. But when one showed up in my bedroom last summer, (possibly the same kingsnake, it had the same markings) I absolutely evicted it from my home. I did the same thing this time, but it was a little more difficult in the muddy darkness, with one hand clutching a (really inadequate) flashlight.
I grabbed the snake, it twisted around as if to bite me, and I flung it as hard as I could towards the door. I know that kingsnakes aren't venomous, but I still didn't like the idea of getting bitten. I found the duckling, grabbed it, and brought it indoors. I looked all around before leaving; no sign of the snake.
I feel kinda stupid about the snake. I knew we had them around here. But it never occurred to me that one would be on the prowl on a rainy night. They always seemed to dislike getting wet.
The moms are still sitting on the remaining eggs; a few have turned out to be duds. I removed a really awful smelling rotten one this morning; the mom had not only pushed it out of the nest, she'd pushed right up to the door. I nearly stepped on it. Ick. I don't really expect any more to hatch. And will probably remove any unhatched eggs sometime next week. Eventually, when the ducklings are bigger and have feathers, I'll put them together in the small enclosure where they were first hatched, to finish growing up near the adults. Everyone can get used to each other gradually before the youngsters join the adults in the large pen.
And that's the ducking situation here.