poop

My neighbor has given me poop.

From her ducks, that is.

She has given me duck poop smeared straw, the perfect winter blanket for my garden beds. Duck waste breaks down in my garden, nourishing the soil in preparation for planting. My harvest, in turn, helps nourish her egg laying ducks. I give her yummies from the garden or headed to compost in exchange for duck eggs. My neighbor and I are eager for the summer when we will herd her ducks over to my vegetable beds for an all you can eat insect buffet.

At first I thought ducklings were like cartoon goats, able to eat anything-rotten vegetables, moldy bread (let the record show I never gave them tin cans). This is not at all the case. My patient neighbor created a duck menu for me so I wouldn’t kill her fuzzy dependents with my ignorance. 

When we take kale or greens to the ducks, my daughters sometimes feed them. Having observed them from duckling to practically grown now, we’ve watched their personalities unfold. Also in my ignorance, I had thought only people and pets had distinct personalities. Now I wonder what other species have personalities.

Have you ever experienced a duck egg? Sturdier and harder to break than a chicken egg, the shell’s hue varies, delicate blues and pinks. They also differ in size, surprising if you’re accustomed to uniform store bought eggs. The yolk is bigger, summer sun orangey and the whites are more viscous. The flavor is strong but does not linger the way store eggs sometimes do.

There isn’t a rule saying you can’t bake with duck eggs but I do not want them absorbed into something else. They are for frying. And smelling. Tasting. Savoring. 

I know the journey of these eggs. 

I know my neighbor rearranged her life and backyard to accommodate a dozen ducks and another neighbor helped design and build their enclosure. I know all about the hoops of getting permits, not to mention how much my neighbor researched the proper care of ducks. So when I receive these eggs, I am mindful of how they came to me.

This mindfulness satisfies something more deeply than the eggs themselves.

I am now connected to my neighbor. We each have something the other needs and wants. We value each other’s efforts-she works to keep her ducks thriving and I am motivated to grow enough veggies to share. For six years, this neighbor and I had only waved to each other in passing. Because of her ducks and my garden we have a relationship, slowly evolving beyond eggs and greens. 

And poop.