I've just returned from a 40-mile round trip to pick up my pre-ordered, local, farm-raised, free-range heritage turkey for Thanksgiving - all six pounds of him. More on that later.
It so happens that the farmer I got this turkey from, is also the one who adopted Wallace the Evil Duck.
I asked him how it went with Wallace.
"Oh," he said, "it's kinda sad, actually."
Did he end up on a dinner plate? I asked.
"No, it was weird, he kept attacking all of the other birds. He'd be OK for a couple days, then right back at it again. But then, he went after the cow. He'd bite her teats, and well, then, she started kicking him... and well, she didn't stop until he was squashed into the ground..."
Judge me if you will, but I chuckled at that. It seemed a fitting end to a seriously deranged duck. Here, all we over-generous humans tried keeping him, (I'm reminded of that Twilight Zone episode with the kid who has psychic powers) but the milk cow finally laid down some Farm Law on his waddly ass.
"I don't understand what was wrong with that duck," said the truly gentle farmer.
"Well, his mom rejected him, that's how I ended up with him. She probably rejected him for good reason."
R.I.P. Wallace, for everyone in Farm Heaven's sake, OK?
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