So I saw Corinna the other day at the farmers market and told her about my desire to keep chickens, and my neighborhood covenant against it.
"Ducks!" she said. "Keep ducks!"
"Ducks?" I replied, a carton with a dozen of her delicious duck eggs (including a pale blue one from Cutie the Duck, pictured here), which I especially like to use for baking, in my hands.
"Ducks, I tell ya'." she went on. "You can raise one like a pet. It'll imprint on you as a duckling and follow you around. It eats kitchen scraps, and bugs and slugs in the garden."
"But the covenants say
no poultry."
"Ducks aren't poultry! Hey Tommy?," she shouted several stalls down to Tommy Searcy, who raises pastured animals for meat. "Are ducks poultry?" Not really waiting for an answer, she continued, "No, ducks aren't poultry. Ducks are waterfowl. Waterfowl!"
"Waterfowl?"
"Waterfowl!"
"But I don't have any water," I stated. Ain't that the truth, especially now during the drought.
"A baby pool. They like to play in a baby pool," Corinna answered.
Okay, do you think the governor will approve that?
Water use allowed only for fire departments and pet ducks."How about noise?" I asked.
"Not as noisy as chickens," she answered. And, I wondered, what's wrong with an occasional
quack?
"Where do I keep one? I'm not allowed to build a coop," I asked.
"A dog house! It'll be happy in a dog house!"
A duck in a dog house.
The Duck in a Dog House. Doesn't that sound like the name of a children's book? About a duck that literally lives in a dog house, but is always getting in trouble with the restrictive neighborhood so is
figuratively"in the dog house" all the time, too?
The writer in me smiled. I would write this children's book. But I would need to have the duck first. I would need to
know the duck. It would be a business initiative. Yes, my husband, not a chicken-keeping fan, would like this, wouldn't he? He is the biggest supporter of all my hair-brained (or rather,
feather -brained) business schemes.
"I order my ducklings in the spring," Corinna added. "I could order one or two for you then." She mentioned a breed that averages 280 eggs a year.
As my older daughter and I got back in the car, we were both convinced that we were about to become duck owners. There was just no doubt in our minds. It all made such perfect sense.
"Let me check the covenants first before we bring this up with Daddy," I suggested gingerly.
And, then, when I downloaded the document and read the fine print, my future as a duck owner was obliterated:
The maintenance, keeping, boarding or raising of animals, livestock, or poultry of any kind, regardless of number, shall be and is hereby prohibited in any Unit or upon any of the Common Areas, except that this shall not prohibit the keeping of dogs, cats or caged birds as domestic pets provided they are not kept, bred or maintained for commercial purposes and, provided further, that they are not a source of annoyance or nuisance to the other Owners.
It goes on and on. There's the clause about no shacks, kennels, barns, sheds, or stables. Listen, there's even a line mixed right in there with the kennels and barns that prohibits "outdoor clothes dryers," which took me a minute to realize was actually clothelines. Hey, if I can't even run a clothesline in my yard, owning a duck suddenly seems like I'm asking for the world.
"It's not fair," my daughter exclaimed.
"Yes, it is," I said. "We knew all this when we bought a home in this neighborhood. We just didn't know, all those years ago, that we would one day want a duck in a dog house."
As for my husband, the first time he hears about this will be when he reads this post. And I will put money on it that I will literally hear his sigh of relief. However, he sure does like those muffins I make with those duck eggs!
There's only one thing I can say. Please keep 'em comin', Cutie and Corinna!
So I saw Corinna the other day at the farmers market and told her about my desire to keep chickens, and my neighborhood covenant against it.
"Ducks!" she said. "Keep ducks!"
"Ducks?" I replied, a carton with a dozen of her delicious duck eggs (including a pale blue one from Cutie the Duck, pictured here), which I especially like to use for baking, in my hands.
"Ducks, I tell ya'." she went on. "You can raise one like a pet. It'll imprint on you as a duckling and follow you around. It eats kitchen scraps, and bugs and slugs in the garden."
"But the covenants say no poultry."
"Ducks aren't poultry! Hey Tommy?," she shouted several stalls down to Tommy Searcy, who raises pastured animals for meat. "Are ducks poultry?" Not really waiting for an answer, she continued, "No, ducks aren't poultry. Ducks are waterfowl. Waterfowl!"
"Waterfowl?"
"Waterfowl!"
"But I don't have any water," I stated. Ain't that the truth, especially now during the drought.
"A baby pool. They like to play in a baby pool," Corinna answered.
Okay, do you think the governor will approve that? Water use allowed only for fire departments and pet ducks.
"How about noise?" I asked.
"Not as noisy as chickens," she answered. And, I wondered, what's wrong with an occasional quack?
"Where do I keep one? I'm not allowed to build a coop," I asked.
"A dog house! It'll be happy in a dog house!"
A duck in a dog house. The Duck in a Dog House. Doesn't that sound like the name of a children's book? About a duck that literally lives in a dog house, but is always getting in trouble with the restrictive neighborhood so is figuratively"in the dog house" all the time, too?
The writer in me smiled. I would write this children's book. But I would need to have the duck first. I would need to know the duck. It would be a business initiative. Yes, my husband, not a chicken-keeping fan, would like this, wouldn't he? He is the biggest supporter of all my hair-brained (or rather, feather -brained) business schemes.
"I order my ducklings in the spring," Corinna added. "I could order one or two for you then." She mentioned a breed that averages 280 eggs a year.
As my older daughter and I got back in the car, we were both convinced that we were about to become duck owners. There was just no doubt in our minds. It all made such perfect sense.
"Let me check the covenants first before we bring this up with Daddy," I suggested gingerly.
And, then, when I downloaded the document and read the fine print, my future as a duck owner was obliterated:
It goes on and on. There's the clause about no shacks, kennels, barns, sheds, or stables. Listen, there's even a line mixed right in there with the kennels and barns that prohibits "outdoor clothes dryers," which took me a minute to realize was actually clothelines. Hey, if I can't even run a clothesline in my yard, owning a duck suddenly seems like I'm asking for the world.
"It's not fair," my daughter exclaimed.
"Yes, it is," I said. "We knew all this when we bought a home in this neighborhood. We just didn't know, all those years ago, that we would one day want a duck in a dog house."
As for my husband, the first time he hears about this will be when he reads this post. And I will put money on it that I will literally hear his sigh of relief. However, he sure does like those muffins I make with those duck eggs!
There's only one thing I can say. Please keep 'em comin', Cutie and Corinna!