MILDRED THE TRANS GENDER DUCK

I have always loved animals. As a child I collected turtles, fish, stray cats, and the occasional field mouse. My mother was not as enthusiastic as I was about these creatures. She did not encourage me in my attempts to amass a menagerie in our small house. At Easter time one year the local toy store owner had the brilliant idea to give away baby chicks. My brother and I went uptown and each brought one home. We raised them in the living room in a wooden box - for about two weeks. Then mom made me take them to my grandpa’s farm. I never ate chicken there again.

As soon as we bought our “Country Estate”, I began making plans for the animals I had always dreamed of living with. The spring after we moved in, a friend brought my grandson a baby duck. We named her Quackers. She drove us crazy with her “quacking”, so off I went to the local farm store to adopt a playmate for her. I came home with a little girl named Gouda. As you can see, I am far more creative in the labeling department than my husband is.

That same Easter, a friend of ours bought a duckling for her daughter, and named it Mildred.  After a few months they realized that Mildred was lonely for other ducks, and being a sucker for any animal that is in need, I said join the flock.

Mildred fit right in, following Quackers, Gouda and our medium sized flock of chickens in and out of the coop every morning and evening. A small wading pool satisfied the urge to swim and splash. Bugs and toads abound here on the farm, so life was good for a little duck.

After a few weeks I began to suspect that Mildred was an imposter. A deep throated quack was the first clue, and a bit of ducky hanky-panky with Quackers and Gouda convinced me that Mildred was in fact a Milton, Millhouse, or Mickey. Mildred was definitely male.  Not wanting to actually change his name, we started calling him Mildred the Trans Gender duck. He became the ruler of the poultry yard.

My grandson Nicholas was about five years old at the time, and lived here with us. Being a five year old boy, he quickly became Mildred’s arch enemy. Nick would run around the yard, ride his bike through the middle of the flock, and generally make a nuisance of himself as far as Mildred was concerned. Before long, if Nick was anywhere near the ducks or chickens, Mildred would mount an attack. Wings spread, head down, he would go after Nick with a vengeance, nipping at his heels with his little beak.  Nick tried to avoid these attacks by running away, throwing things at Mildred, or grabbing him by the neck and holding him up in the air so that he could not nip at him. Nothing discouraged that duck.

Mildred came to know the sound of Nick’s voice and recognized his mother’s vehicle when it pulled into the driveway. Before Nick could get out of the car, Mildred was right there waiting to pounce. When Nick was riding his bike, Mildred would run alongside quacking like crazy. One time he got his wing caught in the spokes of the rear wheel. Luckily he survived it, and continued to chase the bike and it’s rider. I heard Nick yelling out a second story window one afternoon, and saw Mildred come running toward the house ready to do battle. He was one funny duck.

Sometimes Mildred would take a notion to go after one of the adults here at Sunnylawn Grange. If your back was to him, he would take up the chase, but the minute you turned to face him he spun 180 degrees and acted totally innocent. Once you turned back the other way, he resumed his attack. You could go on like this all day if you had nothing better to do than enjoy playing chicken with a duck.

Mildred eventually met his match when he tangled with a raccoon or fox after dark one summer evening. I am sure he was trying to protect his girls from a threat more real than a small boy. Mildred provided us with a lot of entertainment while he resided on the farm. He was a little duck with a very big personality.