I’ve
been to visit Utensil the hen in her new home, where she is self-appointed boss of 3 Light Sussexes and a flock of 20 Indian Runner Ducks. She didn’t recognise me, but then I probably couldn’t pick her out in a crowd either.
Always the way. You lavish your time and money on them, three square meals a day and an expensive education. Then, once they’ve flown the nest, they just don’t want to know you.
She did, however, lay me an egg.
There’s not a lot of point to Indian Runner Ducks. Too bony to eat, they’re bred largely for sheepdog herding at Agricultural Shows. Rupert keeps them, he says, because they make him laugh.
And they are comical. At rest, legs splayed like tripods, their lower abdomens drooping and bulging almost to the ground, they look like elderly dropsical aristocrats, hands behind backs, balancing on shooting sticks.
But there is a less funny side. Ducks reproduce by rape: females are mugged and half-drowned in the process. With as many drakes as ducks, romance at Utensil’s new home is a particularly aggressive business. L
ast year, one duck lost an eye to Love.
The obvious answer is to cull a few males, but this is not Rupert and Jo’s style. The Indian Runners, like the sheep, are effectively pets. Wealthy enough to do pretty well whatever they please, Rupert and Jo have developed a lifestyle that’s half Darling Buds of May and half Duchy of Cornwall, happily enslaved to their land and their pampered animals.
Utensil’s fallen on her feet again – a millionaire avian lifestyle in a Fowls’ Paradise.
been to visit Utensil the hen in her new home, where she is self-appointed boss of 3 Light Sussexes and a flock of 20 Indian Runner Ducks. She didn’t recognise me, but then I probably couldn’t pick her out in a crowd either.Always the way. You lavish your time and money on them, three square meals a day and an expensive education. Then, once they’ve flown the nest, they just don’t want to know you.
She did, however, lay me an egg.
There’s not a lot of point to Indian Runner Ducks. Too bony to eat, they’re bred largely for sheepdog herding at Agricultural Shows. Rupert keeps them, he says, because they make him laugh.
And they are comical. At rest, legs splayed like tripods, their lower abdomens drooping and bulging almost to the ground, they look like elderly dropsical aristocrats, hands behind backs, balancing on shooting sticks.
But there is a less funny side. Ducks reproduce by rape: females are mugged and half-drowned in the process. With as many drakes as ducks, romance at Utensil’s new home is a particularly aggressive business. L
ast year, one duck lost an eye to Love.The obvious answer is to cull a few males, but this is not Rupert and Jo’s style. The Indian Runners, like the sheep, are effectively pets. Wealthy enough to do pretty well whatever they please, Rupert and Jo have developed a lifestyle that’s half Darling Buds of May and half Duchy of Cornwall, happily enslaved to their land and their pampered animals.
Utensil’s fallen on her feet again – a millionaire avian lifestyle in a Fowls’ Paradise.
No comments:
Post a Comment