Wallace the Evil Duck - Final Chapter

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?

Return of the Evil Duck

Well, that didn't last long. Wallace was at his nice, new home for 6 days before Barbara emailed me to tell me that he Had To Go. She sent me a video of Wallace attacking her shins. 

I wasn't surprised by this. It seemed a little too good to be true. 

It would take me a couple days before I could retrieve him and it was no happy reunion on his return. Since I was leaving for Burningman in a couple of days, and I didn't want to saddle my very nice house-sitter with this Devil Duck,  my first plan was to "take him for a ride." I drove him down to the lower field, thinking he was far enough away, let him out of the box and drove back to the house. 

It wasn't very long before he showed up back in the yard and began attacking the chickens again. And the dogs. 

I found a farmer nearby that breeds and sells Muscovys and asked if he'd like mine. I begged him a little. He agreed to take him if I brought him over first thing in the morning.

The difficulty now was how to catch the son-of-a-bitch. The mind reeled. The horror fantasies of being scratched to death or having to shoot him ran through my mind. 

But then he ran into the house. He'd never done that before. The house-sitter and I were able to corner him in the kitchen without bloodshed or broken dishes and crammed him into the cage and set him outside until morning.

And now, Wallace is either living amongst his peers, or he's been eaten by some nice, Vietnamese family.

Via con Dios, Wallace!

A new home for Wallace

Wallace has grown up and turned into a complete asshole. 

He spent most of his day attacking the chickens, pinning them down and biting the backs of their necks, coming away with a bill-full of feathers. I stopped putting him in the pen at night because he was impossible to catch and when I did catch him, he'd scratch me with his sharp claws to the point of almost needing stitches. I left him out at night, kind of hoping the coyotes would get him, but no, every morning I'd wake up to see him setting on the picnic table, waiting for me to let the chickens out so he could get to work attacking them.

Like it isn't loud enough here already without me constantly yelling, WALLACE! KNOCK IT OFF! and chasing him away from my hens.

So when he started coming after me, it was time for him to go. I momentarily considered BBQing him at the Burning Beast event, but just couldn't bring myself to do it. I advertised him on craigslist as a non-edible guard duck. Surprisingly, I got a few responses, one from a really nice person just a little ways down the road who keeps ducks and geese.

She came over immediately and informed me that Wallace was not in fact a duck, but a Muscovy who are very different from ducks. I told her that explained a lot since Wallace was such a jerk. She took Wallace away and invited me to her house the next day where I got to see the beautiful place that is Wallace's new home. 

A Cautious Friendship?

Wallace has been let loose in the house while Leon & Comet are outside being tortured by the new invisible fence.

 

Stella is not too sure about Wallace, but she loves the duck poo!

Duck, thy name is Wallace.

Is that a KANGAROO?

No, it's a duck. But the story of how I got the duck, started with a kangaroo, or two.