Cast and Crew: Masked Marvels

Douchebaggery Ranch is proud to have its very own superheroes. (And no, I’m not one of them- I’m just the pitiful Human who is trying to keep up with everyone else day after day.) Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else in between, allow me to present Daisy and Daisy, the muscovy ducks.

Named according to the DR tradition (which declares that animals I can’t tell apart get the same collective name), Daisy and Daisy share the title of Chief Asshole of the Coop with the rooster. They are mean to the chickens, and outright nasty to the three not-so-small chocolate muscovy ducklings I acquired earlier this summer (one of which is Donald, their prospective husband). The ducklings are just in the process of growing their primary wing feathers, and after finding them covered in blood from their savaged pinfeathers two mornings in a row, the poor buggers had to move in with the quail who reside in the other, sectioned-off half of the coop. Speaking of husbands, Daisy and Daisy have buried two. (Well, one died from severe bumblefoot that he had when he came, and the other disappeared. No suspects have been apprehended.) I rather hope that the third time is the charm, for Donald’s sake. (And my own. Self-propagation is considered a virtue on Douchebaggery Ranch, as my freezer stock mainly consists of the excess second generation males of various species.)

Daisy & Daisy at work


Then why, you might ask, are these douchebags dubbed the Masked Marvels? Let me tell you a story. My garden is in its 3rd season this year, and peas, beans and brassicas are just making their debut. The previous two crops were utterly decimated by slugs. My options were to put down slug bait (strychnine, a particularly awful toxin, various “safe” products that still come with toxicity warnings, or actually safe products that happen to be completely ineffective), set up beer traps (which require a lot of maintenance, and waste perfectly good beer) or find something that eats them. Enter the Daisies. I soon found out that along with the slugs, they cheerfully gobble up all sorts of insect vermin, including catching flies straight out of the air. Right now, the relevant equation is as follows: slugs + flies + food scraps = eggs + meat. How is this not a superpower?!
For the records, duck eggs taste “earthy” (ie. gross) when fried or scrambled, but they are AMAZING when used in baking. There’s some information out there about the fat content of the yolks and what have you, along with all sorts of stories about French chefs using duck eggs for baking, but all that aside, seriously, they make damn good waffles and absolutely divine coffee cakes in comparison to chicken or quail eggs. As for meat, that is a discovery I made last year, when I actually had a previous ¬†flock of muscovies- one got mauled by a dog, one got ran over (conveniently on a sub-zero day) and two took off one day and never came back. The first two mentioned thus made their way into Freezerland, and were much appreciated on cold winter days in the form of soup and stew. Muscovy meat is nothing like the utility ducks (usually Pekins) I used to roast for Christmas. No fat-filled breast for the muscovy, much to my dismay. However, the meat is dark, and makes a much better substitute for beef than chicken. Duck and barley soup? Duck stroganoff? You name it.

These days Daisy is busy molting and the other Daisy seems to have stopped laying in moral support, so there are no duck eggs in the kitchen. However, two Donaldas are growing up along with Donald, and since they are directly related to the flock-husband-to-be, their fate is yet to be decided. As much as I hate to eat females, selling them is not the favorable option at this point, as most people prefer not to buy livestock just before the winter. It looks like, once again, douchebaggery will prevail. Such is life, and such is the world…

Donald, the prospective patriarch
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