One of the many things that has kept me overly busy this year is our first batch of homegrown ducklings.
We had three ducks for several years. One drake kept the ladies in line. Eggs were coming fewer and farther between as the girls got older. In April I noticed a clutch of eggs burried under the coop litter. I decided to let the old girl try her hand at hatching them.
Of the eight eggs she sat on, six hatched. Of the six eggs that hatched, four ducklings survived.
I’ve never had to sex ducklings. If you have never been around ducklings it’s difficult to explain the difference in the sound drakes and hens make. When they are babies they all make the “peep” sound. That changes when they reach duck adolescence.
I do know from experience that males generally get a curly tailfeather, and have a quack that sounds like they suffer permanent laryngitis. Females make that stereotypical “quack” that you hear in cartoons. Of our four survivors we ended up with two of each.
Nature isn’t usually like a Disney movie. As the young drakes came into adulthood their duck testosterone or whatever they have began to roll. They were regularly attacking their daddy duck and the entire flock of chickens and ducks were constatnly under stress. All the boys ended up in freezer camp.
The old girls have pretty much quit laying, but the young girls are contributing an egg a day each toward their room and board.