Elvis

The patriarch of our flock weighs in at less than 4 lbs and has an attitude to compensate. We bought Elvis along with three ducks after a bobcat attack at their first home. The other drake and one of the ducks didn’t survive the encounter and the woman didn’t want the cat returning. Two friends made the 60 mile drive to pick up the birds and returned with empty diaper boxes holding the khakis.

I learned that khakis can indeed fly upon opening the first box. Luckily they spotted our other birds and stayed in the yard. They hadn’t left their old house to eat or drink for the three days following the attack so they were a dehydrated and not entirely steady on their feet. The other drakes immediately attack Elvis who was too weak to defend himself. I scooped the little guy up and carried him inside for some “spa” time.

Spa time for our ducks consists of a half filled bath tub and greens tossed into the water. Elvis drank and ate up the greens. Before we got there he protested being carried and viciously bit my finger. Well, he tried.

A rehydrated and fed little drake returned to the yard and ended up being a holy terror his first Spring with us. He bred everyone by running faster than the ducks and the other drakes. He was annoying and arrogant. He also pulled far fewer feathers off of the females and when he wasn’t chasing the unwilling females he stood watch over the three ducks he had arrived with. When another drake went after his group he attacked the offending drake rather than piling on top of the duck.

Despite his awful behavior I actually liked the little guy. His second Winter with us a Husky puppy jumped our fence and Elvis threw himself in between the dog and Wanda Jackson. His injuries were severe but not life threatening. The one canine punctured his head in that magical dead zone where nothing resides. The puncture would to his throat stopped short of penetrating his esophagus. Our veterinarian just shook her head and cleaned him up.

And then he had an encounter with a hawk where he escaped. And he was mauled two more times by dogs. And now he is a six year old drake who is finally slowing down. Just this past March his all time favorite mate was killed by a red-tailed hawk. I was saddened by the loss of Wanda Jackson but devastated the next night watching Elvis run around the yard looking for her. He has recovered but I worry that some of the fight has left my feisty little man. We will see if he can produce a few more equally feisty and ridiculous daughters later this season. His viability is waning, next year his son Boy Blue will be the drake we rely on to fertilize eggs and Elvis will retire and officially be nothing more than a pet.