Stories of life on our farm in Northwest Georgia where every day is an adventure in this beautiful spot that God has entrusted to our stewardship.

Friday, September 13, 2013

R.I.P., Ping

We adopted Ping in May, 2011 when her owner couldn't keep her.  We called her Ping because she made a little noise that sounded like sonar, "Ping, ping, ping, ping."

In June she joined the older Muscovy ducks in the barnyard.  THEY were the ugly ducklings (although they got uglier with age).

They were fascinated with poor Ping who often found herself the center of attention.

Then in late 2011 our remaining female Muscovy duck, Jemima Puddleduck, was killed, and Ping was the lonely petunia in the onion patch--the sole female among five males.  Her life became miserable until Herb managed to catch her in May 2012, and we moved her to the Home Pasture.

In this safe refuge Ping was able to grow back her feathers and live a peaceful life.

Now Ping had a swimming pool all to herself, and she often took luxurious morning baths, preening and combing her feathers.

She still got out of the way when the pigs wanted a bath, but she found them to be good pasture mates.  She learned that such sloppy eaters tended to scatter bits that she could enjoy, and when she saw us coming with food, she would greet us with excited, loud squawking quacks.

After the pigs left, Ping's next pasture mates were Rambo and Obaama.  They weren't such good buddies when they got bigger because they tended to run right over her trying to get to their food.  But Ping stuck with them, quacking gamely for her share.  She was the mascot for a succession of animals from pigs to sheep to cattle and turkeys.

We think the drakes had injured Ping's legs because she always walked funny, even for a duck, and being run over by the sheep a couple of times didn't help.  Yesterday evening Herb found poor Ping lying dead by the pasture gate when he went out to take Misty to bed.  Our best guess is that one of the cows or sheep stepped on her and fatally injured her.

We will miss you, Ping.  We'll miss hearing your loud quack, announcing supper time to everyone; watching your graceful morning baths; and smiling at your funny waddle.  The pasture will be a much more lonely place without your presence.  Rest in peace, Ping.


  1. Oh, Susan, I'm so sorry to hear about poor Ping! She was so sweet--you all gave her a lovely place to live. I know you have sweet memories of her as well. Love you, Barbara

    1. Thanks, Barbara. She was our "accidental duck" since we never intended to get her, but she brought Big Bird-sized personality to our farm. I do think she (finally, after she got away from the drakes) had a good life!


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