Tuesday, June 5, 2012

I can still hear them quacking

I can still hear them quacking. I walk out to my car or out on the porch, and I hear quacks. I look around, tear up a bit, and remember my lovely ducks. They were good pets they really were. They followed me around, nibbled on our feet, splashed and played, and they would never hurt a thing except for bugs :) They were raised by my brother Jesse and his 4 kids; completely domesticated. They never flew. They walked into their pen each night and waited for us to shut the door. And that's the saddest part. . . . A raccoon tore through the back of their pen and carried my babies off for dinner. Ugly duck was slain and too big to carry off. My mallards left behind only blood and feathers and a trail of being dragged through brush.

Pure devastation. I know people are tired of hearing me talk, whine, cry, about my baby ducks, but after this blog I promise I will let it go :) The duckies deserve this post though, they were with me for a year, and I need to work on closure, lol. I can laugh about it too, so don't think I'm too crazy.

People talk about how happy their dog is to see them when they walk in the door, and my ducks were the same. They seemed always happy to see us and quacking when we walked up. They are very peaceful (except in mating season) and will sleep, splash, play, chase bugs, and quack away. They had an adventurous year, met and played with other ducks and geese, disappeared a couple times to the creek bed, and survived dogs, fox, and snakes nearby.

Darrin and I let them down in the end. We threw pet food on the porch or in the brush, saw raccoon poop and thought nothing of it, patched a weak spot in the pen poorly, and after a full year, the raccoons did what they do. They ate my ducks.

They were beautiful green headed mallards, brothers, and of course I don't need to describe poor ugly duck. He was something else. They loved watermelon, fish food, noodles, tomatoes, and fresh water. I loved them and I will always remember them and cry, just like with Monster Kitty and Dopey. I'm sorry I let you down duckies, and I will always hear you quack. Next time I will do better, if there is a next time. In the meantime, dear family and friends, please do not surprise me with any gifts that breathe, have fur or feathers, or anything similar. RIP duckies.

Sedalia baseball history

During my first couple days of Summer break, my aunt and uncle and cousins came to Sedalia for a baseball tournament. They let me know what the kids game times were, and I made sure to attend a couple games. It was fun and nostalgic walking down Centennial Park, saying hi to friends, and watching my young cousin play. My uncle coaches, my aunt and her parents sat in the stands. The kids played in the creek and everybody screams when their are foul balls. I remember playing in the creek when i was little and a kid screamed bloody murder, and his knee was actually bleeding a bunch! I had been mesmerized by some rock or bug. His dad came running up and screamed at me, "What'd you do?????" I was shocked. The kid had been catching crawdads, which had bit him and made him bleed, and his dad blamed me? The girl sitting nearby? Haha. Parents can be crazy.

There were many adventures and odd happenings. I was impressed by the growth of little league baseball. My family had traveled from Lees Summit, and most teams were from out of town. The teams pay a hefty entrance fee, run immaculate concession stands, and buy the nicest uniforms. A lot more sophisticated than the local teams my brothers played.

The real neat part of the day, though, was when I went to my younger cousins game at Jimmie Vansell field. I remember the name Jimmie Vansell from a father and son that my dad and my brother played baseball with. I'm sure I had a crush on Jimmie Vansell Jr. My cousin was playing against Sedalia Bandits, and he had a great hit and run in the first inning. I was the only relative watching because his brothers game went into overtime. The Bandits coach told us about the high school baseball stadium, and how the WPA built it and it's only one of a few remaining, and how they might put matching green fence around the little field. I got much more nostalgic at this field watching my uncle show up, the Sedalia coaches cracking jokes and calling him the big boy. It was refreshing to watch how things had changed and stayed the same. The history of it all actually made me want to have a son and watch him play baseball and carry on the tradition. But naaaa, watching my Ragland cousins was good enough :) after Europe I plan to buy a nice reliable car and travel to many more games in Kansas City, and watch nieces and nephews as well.