Son of a B#$@%, They're Not Ducks

As I sit here on our outdoor deck built around an one hundred plus year old oak tree, I can see one of our "ducks" sitting on top of the fence that guards the Avian Paradise. The only problem is, it isn't a duck. All this time we have believed that first we were raising two baby ducks that were abandoned, left behind or decided that a better life could be had in the big city. Then we were told that we were actually aiding and abetting illegal Mallards. And we were totally fine with that role. Well, it turns out, thanks to our friends Marley and Tony who came up this weekend, that our Mallards are not only NOT Mallards; they aren't ducks at all. That's not the worst of it, though. The worst is that they are GEESE. Before you jump to conclusions and think that we have a prejudice towards some birds and not others, let me explain to you the characteristics of North American common geese:

The smaller one, who is able to fly long enough to crap all over our drive

And the big-boned sister who may never fly, god bless her heart

 1.) They are huge. Much, much larger than your average North American duck. 2.) Because they are huge, they eat an unfathomable amount of feed. This would be fine if they also pulled their weight around the farm like the rest of us, but they don't. They eat, shit, and attack our dogs. Which brings me to the third point. 3.) Not only do they not lay eggs or eat down the weeds or cuddle on my lap; they are virtually the bird equivaliant of a guard dog. No joke. They are huge, angry and unpolitely protective of their things. Now that they are moving out of their adolecent years and into adulthood, their true colors are emerging. Where last week our dogs could chase them around, now they chase our dogs around. And not just chase - attack. The first time it happened was yesterday when our mentally challenged Min Pin, Sam, tried to eat their food. They took after him like he was trying to eat their young (which, with Sam, is completely plausible). He literally tore across the yard with tail between his legs, flanked on both sides by honking, biting geese. I bet they would bite out his eyes in a heartbeat if they could. 4.) The older they get, the crazier they get. And as far as I know, neither has any plans of packing up anytime soon (they have it pretty cussing good), so we are in for some serious barnyard drama for the next god-knows how many years. 5.) They are, how shall I put this? Stupid. Our guests spent several hours yesterday digging and building them a killer swimming hole, and they looked at it like it was a gaping black hole from which they shan't return (how DARE they treat our guest like that). Seriously? They don't even know a body of water when they see one? And they are classified as "waterfoul"? Oh, god help them. And us.