Narrated by Silver Boy the Silver Swedish Drake
One-eyed flock leader. Dignified. Determined. Slightly baffled by humans.
It started with socks.
Not on feet. On hands.
The small human sprinted past the coop wearing mismatched socks as mittens, hollering something about “hot water duty.”
I blinked. With my good eye.
The hens were scandalized.
He made it to the duck pool, dumped in steaming water, and ran off again—leaving behind a trail of slush and confusion.
Moments later, the girl child appeared, arms full of rabbit water bowls. She slipped once, recovered, and muttered something about “doing everything around here.”
I nodded in solidarity. I, too, am underappreciated.
Then came the adult.
Boots. Bucket. Determination.
She stomped through the yard, muttering about melting snow and mud.
I watched her foot sink.
I watched her boot stay behind.
I watched her fall.
The hens gasped.
I honked.
The small humans laughed.
She did not.
Eventually, she retrieved the boot, the bucket, and her dignity.
She passed us with a glare that said, “Don’t.”
I didn’t.
But I did waddle through the mud after her, just to make sure she knew I saw everything.
🥚 Feathered Footnote:
Winter is chaos. I remain composed.
Mostly.
📸 Meet the Narrator: Silver Boy the Silver Swedish Drake
Silver Boy joined our farm in the summer of 2024, arriving with four Blue Swedish hens and a brother who now leads a neighboring flock. Despite missing one eye, Silver Boy navigates the yard with confidence and flair. His first ducklings hatched this year, and we’re excited to see how his legacy unfolds.
The photo featured here shows Silver Boy in the yard during his first summer—leading his hens with full vision and full swagger. Ironically, the eye visible in this photo is the one he later lost, but it hasn’t slowed him down one bit. These days, he’s still dignified, still determined, and still slightly baffled by winter weather
