Roosevelt & Rose, photo © 2007-08 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
I wish I had a better picture. He really was a good-looking duck. A domesticated mallard, iridescent green and blue feathers against black, a thin white band around his neck.
I’ll always remember him as best pal to our favorite chicken, an Americana named Rose. That is, until she got eaten by coyotes or raccoons last year. Ducks are social creatures, so after Rose was killed, Roosevelt hung out with the turkeys.
We didn’t start out wanting a duck for a pet. Flash back to Spring 2003: Neighbors Nicole and Julie walked over bearing a traumatized wild duck wrapped in a blanket. Their young lab cornered the poor baby and separated it from its mother. Knowing we had chickens and turkeys, Nicole and Julie asked if we might add a baby duck to our brood. Sure, we said, and we named it Waddle.
But ducks like their own kind, so we went out and bought a companion baby duck at the local mercantile. That one we named Roosevelt.
Waddle the Wild could fly, and fly it did all the time, out of the bird pen. Roosevelt, the true waddler, waddled along the fence line, grounded—one of the downsides of domestication.
Rafael and Otis knew Waddle was wild. They put their ears back and crouched around, following the wild duck as it flew across the yard. The poor duck’s run-in with the neighbors’ lab didn’t teach it a thing. It seemed to trust dogs, and it often flew right to Rafael and Otis, whose instincts just couldn’t keep them from wanting to kill and eat the wild duck. And much as we tried to protect Waddle by keeping it in the pen, it couldn’t shake its wild ways.
Sure enough, one day, only about two weeks after the wild duck joined our family, we came home from errands and noticed Rafael and Otis slinking about the yard. Waddle was missing, its feathers strewn all over the place.
And so Roosevelt became the sole duck of the brood. He immediately bonded to Rose, following her everywhere. When coyotes or raccoons—we don’t know which—came one night last year and raided our hen house, Roosevelt survived by jumping into a buried stock tank. That move saved his life, although we lost poor Rose and a few other chickens that we’d had for years.
This past year, with Rose gone, Roosevelt has been constant companion of the turkeys. During the day, it was the turkeys and Roosevelt always, cruising about the place. At night, when the turkeys roosted in the trees, Roosevelt slept somewhere on the ground nearby.
And herein lies the fate of Roosevelt. After having survived the perils of living among wild creatures of the Rio Grande Valley for five years, Roosevelt’s luck finally ran out. Two or three coyotes, probably with a den somewhere in the far corner of our meadow, were prowling near the house last Sunday night. Jim got up five times to chase them off, but even so, they managed to get two toms (who either got flustered and flew down from the trees or weren’t roosting in the branches to begin with). The coyotes also got Roosevelt.
Monday morning as I drove Dee for carpool, I noticed a coyote out by the far orchard, eating something. I called Jim on my cell phone; he walked out there and found the feathers and bones of the turkeys. Later, he found Roosevelt’s feathers.
And so this unique duck’s life comes to an end. He was a good pet. I wish we could have kept him safer, but he never liked being in the pen while the turkeys were up in the trees. He took his chances, and this time he didn’t make it.
Good-bye, Mr. Roosevelt. We’ll miss you. Dee and Em ask that you say hello to Rose for them.
What a great name, Roosevelt. Poor Roosevelt the duck. May he rest in peace. He was a fine looking mallard. Amazing how social animals can be. They all have their hierarchy, don’t they.
It seems good to acknowledge his passing. Pets become part of the family structure. Even domesticated pets have a wild streak.
We talk about that all the time with our cats. One minute they are purring and rolling over, exposing their stomachs for petting. Then, just as suddenly, they’ll rear up, claws out, and streak through the house . It’s unpredictable, that wildness. You’ve sure lost quite a few animals since you all moved there.
Speaking of city wildness, last night we saw a raccoon, a deer, black beetles crawling out of a piece of birch, a bunch of Canadian geese that landed on the pond while we were sitting around the fire. Recently, there have been reports of bear closer to the cities. I wonder what will happen when humans take over all the land. Where will the animals go?
LikeLike
Thanks, QM. Yeah, I ask that question, too. The coyotes are, of course, wild, and I worry about their well-being. We think they must be living somewhere, out in the willows of the pond or in the thickets in the furthest border. I’m glad they’re here, although I wish we could have kept our birds safer from them.
Roosevelt and Rose were both special in our family. We have one other bird, Azul the turkey. She is special, too. Poultry are not like other pets, and it’s only rare that some truly connect with humans. These three did, so losing two of them was a big deal for us.
We’ve lost a lot of birds here, it’s true. If I’m remembering correctly, we’ve lost three chickens, Roosevelt, and quite a few turkeys. Some of the turkeys were killed very young, but most of the birds have been taken by other animals.
We lost quite a few at our old place, too. I remember once a large hawk flew into the bird pen, which had a high chainlink fence all around but no roof, and grabbed a young turkey. It was a white turkey, and it stood out against the tan dirt. Jim and I both saw the hawk go for the bird—we were both outside—and we both ran screaming at the hawk, but it was too late. That hawk was so bold. It flew away with the turkey to the neighbor’s globe willow tree and ate the turkey while we watched.
Nature—it can seem so cruel. We only have four turkeys left now, three of which roost high up. (After the attacks, they started roosting on the roof of the house.) One turkey, though, does not know how to fly up high. He watches the other three go up, and he stays on a lowish wall. We can’t herd him into the enclosed pen, where at least he’d be safe at night. He wants nothing to do with us, and when we try he simply runs in circles like a madman. I worry about him. He won’t survive the coyotes. Jim saw two bigs ones last night near the pond. He shone a flashlight out there, and their eyes glowed red in the dark.
LikeLike
Aren’t coyotes something? We have to be careful and we live on the edge of a good-sized city. The coyotes howl back and forth with the emergency vehicle sirens at night. It’s actually an awesome thing to hear, but everyone is well warned to keep cats and small dogs inside. Jazz has never been an outside cat, except for when she was lost out-of-doors for several months last winter. I think she’s rather afraid of being out in the open, even though she loves the screened porch. Even when I open the door to come and go, she shows no interest in bolting.
Sorry about Roosevelt. Great turkey with a great name.
LikeLike
Poor Roosevelt. I know what it’s like to lose birds. When J & I lived at the farm we had chickens in a coop. J picked up a mother hen & 13 peeps. We even hatched some in an incubator. Somehow a weazle got into the coop. What an ugly sight that was as they take off the heads & suck the blood out of them. We lost 6 young chickens in one night. My favorite, Porky, was I’m sure the first to go. I never went into the coop again, although we sealed up the tiny hole where the little murderer came in. We later gave the chickens to friends who owned a small farm. So sad. Rest in peace Roosevelt. Nature can sometimes be so cruel. D
LikeLike
Thanks, diddy and bo. (Bo-diddy?) 8)
Ew, yuck, diddy. Blood-suckers? Sounds like the mythical “chupacabra”—goat-suckers.
It’s actually an awesome thing to hear, but everyone is well warned to keep cats and small dogs inside.
Same here, Bo. We accompany Sonia out for her potty breaks at night. The coyotes stay away in the day—the few sightings out in the field in the early morning have been rare and probably only on account of the feedings. Yep, and their yappings and howlings are eerily beautiful.
LikeLike
i can’t begin to tell you the animals we have lost to the woods–the creatures in them..one day while we were at church a black snake got in a cage where my wife had several baby chicks–he ate them all and was to big to exit….she made that snake pay with a butcher knife…all in her sunday best
LikeLike
Wow, Scot, that’s quite a visual, your wife in her Sunday best with the butcher knife and a snake. Yikes!
LikeLike
My condolences to you and your family for your loss. That is very sad about Roosevelt, what a sweet, innocent creature a duck is, esp a black domesticated mallard.
A few nights ago we heard an incredible concert of Coyote song – across the road – and it sounded like a chorus of orchestrated glee, like a bunch of wild children out to recess.
As much as I was thrilled by the intense emotion evoked by it, I fear that some sacrificial rite was taking place and likely some little animal had given up its life for a Howl – o -‘ween party. Since our cat only lasted a week in this neighborhood, we have not had any pets. As Woody Allen once said, it’s one big restaurant out there.
LikeLike
ps, I guess I am logged in as virtualocity on this computer, it’s me, chickenlil – have a beautiful day!
LikeLike
Hey, lil, you’re appearing as your altar ego. 8)
Ha, love the Woody Allen saying. It most certainly is one big restaurant around these parts.
Speaking of cats, the one that had been hanging around here a few weeks ago is gone. Darn it. I wish Jim weren’t allergic; we would have taken it in. I was so worried it would get eaten; the owners just didn’t seem to let it in the house very often.
LikeLike
A great post, and a fitting tribute. I loved the part about how he escaped the coyotes the first time. Poor ‘ole Roosevelt. You really write about the animals with a lot of sensitivity and a keen eye. A sad, but at the same time, entertaining essay.
LikeLike
Thanks, christine. You can imagine our relief and awe when we found Roosevelt in the bottom of the stock barrel after that fateful night when Rose and two other hens got killed. We kept our birds in a pen that had a fence around it and an interior pen with a fence and a roof. I think we had separated out the turkeys and the chickens, as the turkeys either had babies or eggs—so they were in the fully enclosed structure. That’s how we ended up losing our chickens. Ah, the risks of raising fowl. 😦
LikeLike
I read this, thought I responded, but maybe again, didn’t.
What a spunky little dude he was!
I love coyotes, but in this post, I’ll admit, I thought them utterly villains.
Ah well. It’s the nature of coyote to hung, just like it was the nature of Roosevelt not to want to hide inside.
LikeLike
*hunt, not hung
(freud aficionados would get a kick out of that typo)
LikeLike
Ah…I am sad about the outcome. At times, nature can seem so cruel. 😦 I struggled with this as a child..my Grandma Bessie would wipe my tears away saying “such is the way, my child” I have young grandchildren now, and sometimes I say the same to them…but I admit, in my heart I still struggle with it.
When you write you always make me feel as though I am right there! Thank you for taking us into your world!
LikeLike
[…] at the fence around the bird pen to see Azul and the other turkeys, along with our chickens and Roosevelt the duck. We even had two bunnies, Diamond-in-the-Rough and Snowball, which if we could catch (they burrowed […]
LikeLike
[…] at the fence around the bird pen to see Azul and the other turkeys, along with our chickens and Roosevelt the duck. We even had two bunnies, Diamond-in-the-Rough and Snowball, which if we could catch (they burrowed […]
LikeLike