Ducks in a Row

I am in France. My fingernails are black. My finances are in tatters but the music is loud and the future is dancing ahead of me, seductively. My future has tremendously agile and perfectly fluid hips. They are hypnotic. There will be cake by the way. In my future’s infinite picnic basket, there will be cake and sunshine and swimming, plus a ceaseless supply of genuine revels. And the occasional Hob-Nob. My plans are in place. My foundations are laid. The laughter of God can go hang.  

Thus far in France there has been wine. There has been livestock. There has been friendship, music, dancing and yogic flying. There has not been yogic flying. I just invented that. Like a wizard. I am a wizard! We are all wizards! But still, there has been no yogic flying.

There has, however, been duckhusbandry.

We went to a market. The one at Les Hérolles. It’s quite famous. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s called ‘The Market of Les Hérolles’.

It’s quite famous because it’s one of those places where you can buy just about anything. Sausages. Lychees. Baby mice. Brie. Grebe. Mahogany grasshoppers. Treeotards. Mooncups. Guatemalan Penis Lamps. Suede Hats. Shit Monkeys.

There was even a man who was able to summon fire gods from giant dishcloths…


And this bird, which has as yet undistilled magical powers…


And this man, livestock specialist and accidental inventor of the market’s first rabbit-powered time machine,’The Epoch Shifter’ (sounds better in French)…


But we were there for chickens. All of us. We all went. And we were there for the chickens. The chickens. However, when The Universe tells you to source ducks, you do not quibble over permissions or prices or ponds – not if you’ve got your balls about you: you source ducks.

And that’s what happened. The Universe told me to source and purchase two ducks.

The first ducks we looked at were not right, however…


Turns out they were from a distant planet and had to be pumped full of uranium to survive our earth atmosphere. They were actually being sold as lamps. And the universe wasn’t telling me to source lamps. If it was, it would have sent me to Exciting Lighting in Mansfield Woodhouse.

The next ducks we looked at were African Featherbills…

DSCF4076 (2) (1024x662)

But they were too expensive.

The next ones were ruled out because they had been genetically modified to grow their own toupees…


But these – these were the ones. Watch them huddle. Understand.


I want that one…


Back at Cyrus and Ruby’s place, we had already half-constructed a fowl enclosure in the wild flower field with the old hen houses in the corner. Here it is…

IMG_1567 (1024x683)

So we finished that and installed the birds. Here are the ducks – Raymond and Raclette – in their new home.


It was just a little gloomy at first, as you can see.

And even when they came outside, something wasn’t right. They were like ducks out of water. It was like there was something missing. But what?

So it just happened that there was an old tin bath lying around. All that needed to be done was a) dig a hole b) bury bath and c) fill bath with water, and Raymond and Raclette would be the happiest ducks this side of Peking.

So that’s what we did. Here:

a) dig a hole

IMG_1580 (1024x685)b) bury bath

IMG_1606 (1024x683)c) fill bath

fillNow there’s only one thing missing. Two things in fact. Here they are, cowering in their dungeon…

dungeonCome on, Raymond! Come on, Raclette! Get quacking! Your life is just beginning!

DSCF4038 (1024x769)




I love ducks, don’t you?


About the Author

I am Karl Webster. I wrote these words. If you liked them, you’ll be overjoyed to know that there are plenty more where they came from. So you should definitely sign up to my newsletter if you haven’t already.

Leave a Reply 0 comments