Befriending Muscovies

I saw him as I walked into my house. Didn't think much of it — another resident riding his bicycle through the mobile home park. When I looked again out of my kitchen window he had done a U-turn and was standing on the sidewalk pointing his camera at the ducks.

They were Muscovy ducks. Not from Moscow one description stated. No one knew where they got the name. Possibly from the Muscovy Company which imported them to England and France. Both the meat and eggs are said to be tasty, which is to their benefit or detriment considering their large size. The males are the largest ducks in North America. and they has been declared the oldest domesticated foul species in the Americas. The natives of Peru and Paraguay are said to be raising them when the Spaniards marched into those countries in 1524. A few were taken onto the Santa Marie when Columbus sailed back to Europe. They likely didn't make the complete voyage.

The ducks spread throughout the continent and into Mexico. Fairly easy to raise, omnivores, with mosquito larvae their favorite meal, and able to fend off predation having claws on their web feet and roosting in trees at night. The only real feral Muscovy ducks supposedly exist along the Rio Grande River in Texas. Reportedly, they came to Florida (where I live) in the mid-1960s as an "ornamental species." I don't buy that. I suspect developers brought them in for insect control — residents didn't need to know about any onslaught of mosquitos and the ducks saved them on pesticide costs.

Maybe because they were so omnipresent scientists and animal behaviorists didn't spend a lot of time studying them. Also, they weren't particularly attractive birds despite an iridescent colors the males display when looked at from certain angles. According to All About Birds, "Aztec rulers wore cloaks made from the feathers of the Muscovy Duck, which was considered the totem animal of the Wind God, Ehecatl."

It was the fleshy red growth called caruncles on their face and neck that had people calling them ugly, strange and weird. Not to me but maybe to the man taking pictures of them did as they eat the bird seed I put out for them.

"Can I help you with something?" I said when I stepped back onto my porch.

"I'm taking pictures of your ducks," he said.

Used to visitors at the park, especially children, taking pictures that didn't bother me. "There not my ducks," I said. "There everyone's ducks."

"They’re your ducks, you're feeding them," he said in a belligerent tone.

"Other people feed them." My friendliness had dissipated.

He then took photos of my name and number on the front of my unit. "I'm going to complaint about this," he said. "I've lived here fifteen years."

Wanting to know who was complaining, I asked. He refused to give his name. I thought about coming out of my porch and confronting him more directly. "Maybe you'll live another 15 years here and then die,"  I said in a loud voice as he moved away.

"Yeah, then I'll die," he repeated back to me, now out of sight.

"The ducks will be happy," I answered back.

I wasn't proud of what I said and wondered if he took it as a warning. It wasn't meant to be. I don't know if it was fear or arrogance that prevented us from having a decent discussion over the ducks, on both of our parts. A few days later I got an email from the park manager's assistant telling me "people had complained" and citing county rules against feeding the wildlife. Duck poop on their driveways was the big issue, something I was very familiar with.

I responded in a polite but direct manner. Muscovy ducks weren't wildlife but semi-domesticated animals who are accepting of humans in their space. Yes, they were considered invasive by the state but the choice for them to be in Florida wasn't theirs. I contented that they added ambience to the part despite they didn't look like an egret or bluejay. The rules, I wrote, if taken to the extreme could mean outlawing bird feeders. Noting the birds heavy insect diet I also protested the heavy use of pesticides in the park with pollinators being destroyed and the overall ecology damaged. But I closed by stating I would try and refrain from feeding the ducks with a caveat saying that animals are "God's creatures." It was an invocation I never use since as far as I know God could be one of the ducks I was feeding. But the times, and living in the South, seem to call for it.

A day passed and I began researching how to shoo away the ducks in a humane manner. An ultrasonic repeller was pricey and chemical repellents were anti-Nature, plus I didn't want to drive away all birds. I decided to go old fashion — a sixteen-inch plastic Great Owl figurine. The woman at the home goods store told me she bought one to keep birds from flying into her windows. "It worked great," she said. I hung the fake owl by my driveway that night.

The next morning I peeked out my kitchen window. No Muscovy ducks in sight. I felt pleased, but just for a minute. When I stepped onto my porch, the ducks appeared. The owl had absolutely no effect. I even swung the owl in front of their faces. The ducks seemed mildly amused.

I wrote the park administrative assistant again. "The ducks," I typed, "were either too smart in knowing it was a plastic owl or too dumb to realize it was an owl."

For the next few days I fought off the urge to feed the ducks. But one night just before sunset I sprinkled some seed onto the driveway. Watching a smaller hen with a bum leg hop around with difficulty got to me. The larger drakes pin the hens to the ground by sitting on them during mating. Now, I remain discreet, only dropping some seeds when I figure I won't draw a big duck crowd.

Muscovy ducks have a mild temperament. not particularly loud and groom themselves almost as much as cats. They waggle their tail feathers when excited and as a greeting, something I relish. The males hiss or make a heavy breathing sound; the hens deliver mid-range squeaks. Most of their communication is through body language including raising the crown on their head to announce a dominant male or register curiosity. Unlike other ducks they don't swim much. Much of the literature about them warn they are aggressive and not to try and pet them. I never experience any aggression from them and a few let me pet them. To me, they are a misunderstood and underappreciated animal.

In trying to understand my affinity for these ducks (and all animals) I remember the quote from philosopher Martin Buber: “An animal’s eyes have the power to speak a great language.”