A Fond Au Revoir to the Ducks

 HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  Poor little Eddy. She is confused. The little female mallard is gooshing around in the leaves that remain in the tarp that covers our pool, trying to figure out what the heck is going on. (Talk about protective coloration, right? Whoa. See her?)

Yes, it's time for the pool to open, and that means it's time for the water to be drained from the tarp, and that means it's time for the ducks to leave.

They've been In our backyard pool since March of this year, but you know the story.

 “Our” first two ducks, who we named Flo and Eddy, and yes I know it's strange, but Flo is the male and Eddy is the female and that's just how it is. Their names just appeared to me that way. (Flo and Eddy, like water, you know?)

They have been coming to our backyard, as you know, every March for 27 years.

Twenty-seven years! 

The first year they arrived I was jumping up and down with delight! I remember the first words out of my mouth were: “Jonathan! Do we have any duck food?” 

Of course we did not have duck food, but we soon got it, and soon we were feeding the ducks happily.  

We had no idea what would happen, how long they would stay, whether it would be overnight or forever. We finally had to open the pool for the summer, and that was a moment of crisis. Would they stay and swim in the pool with the chlorine? Year number one, yes they did. 

Eddy arrived first, sploshing into the chlorinated pool, and it was so funny, because I could see, for the first time, her little webbed feet pushing back and forth in the now clear water. I was totally freaked out! I called the Audubon Society, panicked. 

“Listen,” I said,  “there is a duck in our pool, and there is chlorine in it! Will it hurt their feet?” The Audubon Society person paused, and then, in the most supercilious tone imaginable, said to me:  Does the chlorine hurt your feet?

Which I thought was irrelevant, but I took it to mean that it would be fine. The next day, though, Eddy came back, and sort of quacked and waddled around the patio, and then left.

I was absolutely bereft. Would I ever see the ducks again?

And then, around March 15th or so of the next year, somehow I can describe this to you, the ripples on the water in the pool tarp were just... different. 

And I said to Jonathan, “The ripples in the pool look like it's time for the ducks.” And he said, “What do you mean?” And I said “I have no idea. It just looks like... it looks like it's time.”

The next day the ducks arrived. Flo and Eddy, looking exactly like they did the year before. 

I know you know this story, so I will keep it short, but every year around March, they come, Flo and Eddy, and more ducks which we named Not-Flo, and Not-Eddy, and Mangy Duck, and No Neck, and Spot Front, and Nasty Duck, and Pretty Eddy.

You ask if we can tell them apart. Yes indeed we can, and if you watched them as much as we do, you would be able to as well. I mean think about it, if you had four, say, dachshunds, you'd be able to tell them apart, right? Same with ducks. 

And now they actually come to our back door to remind us to feed them! And gently peck on it if we don't hurry up.

So, the pool people are here today, and another season of our life is over, duck season is on pause until next year. But I know it's summer, and the pool will be fun, and it will be lovely to have sunny days and float on our rafts in the pool reading with lemonade, one of our favorite pastimes. But I know that if someone asked me “would you rather keep the pool closed and keep the ducks around?” I would say yes.

Au revoir, dear Flo and Eddy, and we are crossing wings and fingers to see you next year.

 

Reds and readers, what are your signs of the coming summer?

Ready for the Changing Season?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  If you are seeing this on Sunday, it means I couldn't post Bouchercon photos...but they will come soon!

This is a squirrel in our back yard--clearly baffled that the green tarpaulin cover is on the swimming pool.  Yes, we have closed it, and it means summer is over...but it also means the pool will fill up and soon the ducks will come! So it's a marking of the seasons.

What are you doing to get ready for the fall?

Food that's too smart to eat

photo by H. Zell via Wikimedia Commons

HALLIE EPHRON: Recently I read in the Huffington Post that Gwyneth Paltrow won’t eat octopus because they’re so smart. (This is what I do instead of writing my next book.)
“Octopus are too smart to be food. They have more neurons in their brains than we do. I had to stop eating them because I was so freaked out by it.” One famously escaped from its tank at the New Zealand Aquarium, slithered down a drain pipe, and returned to the ocean.

Sound flaky? Not to me. There are several foods I won’t eat because they’re too smart. Octopus. Dolphin. Guinea pig. Whale.

So why is it okay to eat dumb food but not smart food? This is a question I prefer not to ask myself.

Other foods I won’t eat for other reasons: shrimp that isn’t wild caught (they’re destroying mangroves that protect the coastline in order to farm at the little creatures and harvesting them with slave labor in Southeast Asia.) Swordfish more than a few times a year (mercury). Eggs from chickens raised in those awful cages.

What’s on your I WON’T EAT IT list, and isn’t it nice to be well-off enough to be making these kinds of choices?

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Well, I won't eat octopus because I don't like it. Calamari is too rubbery for me. I wouldn't eat anything that's endangered, and yes, there is something about dolphins that would squick me if someone put a plate in front of me.

by Fir0002 via Wikimedia Commons

In the summertime, we get fabulously free range eggs from my friends - I can literally see their chickens free-ranging around the dooryard whenever I visit. I admit, I've been too cheap to PAY for the good, cruelty-free eggs, but you're making me re-think that, Hallie. Now the Sailor is being fed by Uncle Sam and we're eating a dozen eggs every two weeks instead of two dozen eggs per week, I could afford the more humane (and tastier) product.

Food I was really grateful to find out WASN'T endangered? Conch. I fell in love with it the first time we visited the Bahamas, and I almost didn't eat it in Key West until someone told me, no, it's okay. There are still evidently plenty of Conch in the sea.

RHYS BOWEN: We had this discussion on Easter Sunday when I always serve leg of lamb. Now neither granddaughter will eat lamb because it's... well, it's a little lamb, isn't it?

Daughter Jane and I agreed that we are coming to feel the same way about eating meat. Cows are intelligent, so are pigs. Actually we don't eat much red meat any more but I do try to make an effort to buy grass fed, humanely raised beef. And chicken. And cage free eggs.

The trouble with going vegetarian is that it's hard to get enough B vitamins and legumes don't agree with my stomach. I love fish luckily. Even calamari and I cook calamari steaks so they cut like butter, Julia. Breaded, about a minute on each side.

Photo by Sandos at the English language Wikipedia

I haven't eaten veal for many years after I read how it is raised. I don't think I could eat grasshoppers or ants.And definitely not guinea pigs! we had an adorable one once who used to sit on my shoulder while I watched TV. Definitely not dolphin, although the dolphin they serve in the Caribbean is actually dolphin fish and not the mammal.
And I just saw on TV that plants send out distress signals to other plants when they are being eaten. What is left? Fruitarian?

JENN McKINLAY: I don't know, Rhys, I think the bananas would probably have separation anxiety about being ripped apart from their hand, because, little known fact (at least to me), a single banana is called a finger while a bunch of bananas is called a hand.

Okay, no more bananas for me! Honestly, I tried the vegetarian thing. I lasted two weeks. Hooligan 1 walked by me eating a burger and I ripped it out of his hands and ate it right in front of him. Wisely, he said not a word and slowly backed away.

I do try to eat all organic, cage free, not endangered foods, and I will try things like crickets just because you never know if you have a taste for them. Truly, feeding a family has never felt so complicated. And, yes, Hallie, we are sure lucky to have such first world problems.

INGRID THOFT: Tongue. I won't eat tongue. The idea of another animal's tongue touching my tongue and then swallowing it? It grosses me out!

I have no issues with lamb, veal, or anything else that is cute, nor do I give the alleged intelligence of the entrée any thought.

I agree with Julia on the calamari front; way too chewy for my taste. I'm not thrilled by the idea of bugs, but could probably swallow down a cricket or two. However, I draw the line at things that are still alive. Many moons ago, my parents were in Japan and were served lobster (which they love under normal circumstances,) and it was still squirming on their plates. Needless to say, the activity of the main dish detracted from the flavor!

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: Too smart. (Well, they weren't smarter than humans, but that's not the point.) There is a weird line that I draw, and I can't quite put my finger on it.

Eels, though, those I CAN put my finger on. Pass. Sea bass and other endangered things, I don't eat. And it's either halibut or haddock that's endangered, so I just skip both of them. No veal. I'm very fond of rack of lamb, so, even though it does give me pause...I grill it and enjoy it. Without a mental picture. Ingrid, with you on tongue.

I once interviewed a guy who was the director of the aquarium. And I asked (not for the interview) if he ate sushi. he said yes, absolutely, and he ate fish. His philosophy was that fish are provided by nature, and if we are humane and not wasteful, it's a celebration of how the world works.
The big change though, is duck. I love grilled duck breast, and it used to be one of my faves. Now, though, with Flo and Eddy and their duck friends swimming in our back yard pool, I cannot eat duck. When we see it on a menu, my husband and I exchange horrified looks.

LUCY BURDETTE: Hank, I think that's how the Native American people handle eating animals--to thank them for their sacrifice, etc, etc.
I will not eat veal, and try not to eat pork (because pigs are too

Squid photo © Hans Hillewaert, CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia

smart), and won't eat squid after seeing them while snorkeling. We found a whole line of them--as we'd approach, they'd back away. We'd back away, and they'd approach. It seemed as if they were curious about us! (Not that I would eat squid anyway, LOL. Just ask Hallie...)

I feel almost as though I should be vegetarian, but I'm not there yet. But I do go the "kind raising" route, definitely no eggs from caged chickens. And yes, we are lucky, lucky, lucky to even have this question on our collective tables!

DEBORAH CROMBIE: If vegetables send out distress signals, then fruit must, too, right? So where do you draw the line once you go down that road?

I would like to know that things I eat have been humanely treated. I buy good local dairy milk, and really expensive local cage free eggs, and local grass fed beef. I try not to eat endangered fish, and I support local farmers. I am a little squeamish about veal these days, but it doesn't come up as a menu choice that often--nor does octopus, although I'm happy to eat calamari. (Thanks for reminding me about the squid steaks, Rhys. They are amazingly good if you don't overcook them.)
I know tongue sounds really icky, but I grew up going to a German deli here in Dallas that sold it as one of their cold lunch meats, and I loved it! What do I draw the line at? Brains, maybe. I remember my mom cooking them when I was a kid. Was it with scrambled eggs? Or did they just look like scrambled eggs? Now we're all totally grossed out.

But I can't help but think these are all such first world issues. I'm a lot more concerned about how to feed hungry people.

HALLIE: So what's on your 'Won't Eat It' list and where do you draw the line?

On Summer Surprises

JAN: As I often lament, I'm the world's worst gardener. This is possibly because I hate gardening so much. My husband insists the poor young plants I put in the earth can actually feel my hatred. That's why so many of them just don't thrive. (The not watering part, and just trying to get it over with part, may also play a role)

Anyway, years ago I planted a hydrangea that just wouldn't flower. I went back to the lawn and garden guy who told me it was probably where I had planted it, and suggested that I put burlap around it in the winter to protect it from the high winds. Of course, hating gardening as much as I do, I was not about to go out and buy burlap and stake it around the hydrangea, so I ignored the lawn and garden guy. The hydrangea grew to an unruly size and dominated my rock garden without a single flower. So I got even with the hydrangea, and told my husband to dig it up and get rid of it.

He dug the entire thing up by the root ball and moved it to the front yard. The next year, a small plant appeared where the old hydrangea had been. I was too lazy to weed it. This year, after the worst harshest winter, the hydrangea reappeared, fully size, beautiful and fully flowered.

So despite my hatred, my neglect, and my ultimate revenge, it returned to bloom like a bastard. For me, that's the best surprise of the summer.

What's your best seasonal surprise?

HANK: Well, you know about the ducks, but that's spring. This year, though, we have WONDERFUL BIRDS! We saw Baltimore Orioles, amazing. And a couple of nuthatches, catbirds, flickers, whole families of cardinals: flashy brilliant dads, dowdy moms, and doofus little ones. Hundreds, literally, of robins. (Bobbing along.) And the wrenny gray doves, all in pairs, skittering around and making that little noise when anything startles them. And everything does, of course.

Am I hopelessly old to care about birds? Should I be writing about my new, ah, I don't know, motorcycle or ball gown or something?

DEBS: I must be having the most boring summer imaginable . . . I'm with Hank on the birds--we've had FLOCKS of hummingbirds, which I absolutely love. (Do hummingbirds flock??) But I think perhaps my biggest surprise is re-discovering how much I love root beer floats, thanks to one of our rather rambling JR blogs. In fact, I think another trip to Whole Foods Market for the goodies may be in order this weekend . . .

Oh, and we got a new grill, and I am surprised by how much I LOVE it. I didn't know you could be in transports over a grill. You just turn the knob and push the button and it's lit. And everything cooks perfectly! (Well, expect for the pizza, but that's another story . . .)

JAN: Anyone else have any summer surprises you'd like to share?

ROBERTA/LUCY: There's a new fox in town. Oh we've had families of fox before but this guy appears to be an adolescent--completely fearless. One day we saw him on the beach where he'd stolen a large fish from a seagull, who circled overhead screaming. Other days he's trotted through our yard or up our lane as if he was part of the family. Tonka's chased him a couple of times but he comes right back to pick up whatever game he dropped. The bad part is now I worry about him as if he is family....

By the way, I love the hydrangea story Jan--don't think I ever knew that about you and gardening!

JULIA: Jan, you are a gardener after my own heart. Unless Ross takes care of it, any plant in the vicinity of our farmhouse has to fend for itself. Occasionally, when my conscience is touched by our neighbors' orderly flowerbeds, I refer to this neglect as "naturescaping."

My surprise this summer has to do with the Saco River. There's a wonderful town park with a narrow riverine beach that the children and I go to several times a week during the summer. In years past, I've stayed close to shore, intimidated by the challenge of going well into a river that's over thirty feet deep and has a decided current. But this summer, much to my surprise, all the laps I did at the YMCA over the winter have paid off! I can go half-way across and then back again several times. Someday soon, sisters, I'm going to cross to the opposite shore.