Duckie — An Update

She's doing well. Really well, actually. Better than I expected when she first showed up looking like she was running on borrowed time.

Duckie now arrives every single morning without fail. Rain, cold, it doesn't matter. She comes up from the stream and parks herself at the garage door, waiting. It's become her spot — she knows that's where feeding time happens. The bowl goes down, she eats, and then she either hangs around for a bit or wanders back down to the water. Completely on her own schedule.

The Porridge Is Working

The soaked chicken feed porridge has been the staple from day one and she clearly loves it. We keep it well soaked so the whole thing has a soft, scoopable consistency she can manage with just the lower bill. She's gotten efficient at it now — she dips in and scoops with a kind of sideways flick that she's clearly developed as her own technique for dealing with the missing upper bill.

She's filled out noticeably. When she first arrived she was light and angular. Now she looks like a healthy duck. Her feathers are in good condition, she moves well, and she has plenty of energy. Whatever weight she's put on since we started feeding her, it shows.

She Knows the Routine Better Than We Do

One morning we slept in a bit and the bowl wasn't out yet. I heard a persistent quacking from outside and went to the window — Duckie was standing at the back step, looking thoroughly unimpressed. She had come for her breakfast and breakfast was not ready. Fair enough, honestly. That's on us.

She's come a long way from the cautious duck who wouldn't approach until I'd stepped well back. These days she waddles straight up to me when I come outside, quacking away until the bowl goes down. If I'm moving around the yard she'll follow along behind me, still quacking, making absolutely sure I haven't forgotten about her. I haven't. I never do.

It's funny — she's still wild. She doesn't want to be picked up and she sleeps down at the creek like any other duck. But between the hours of roughly 8am and whenever she decides breakfast is done, she's completely at ease with me. We have an understanding.

Part of the Place Now

There's something about an animal choosing to come back every day that gets you. She didn't have to. She could have moved on, found somewhere else. But she keeps showing up, waddling up to say good morning, and somehow it has become just part of how the day starts here.

She's made it. Against what were pretty long odds given the injury, she's genuinely thriving. Duckie has carved out her little routine and is going strong. Long may it continue.