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Sheldon, my duck, is giving me the stink eye. If you haven’t experience this, I can tell you that it’s horror movie startling.
I am just finishing putting new bedding into the chicken coop when he waddles
up to me.
“Sheldon what’s the matter?” I ask
His stink eye intensifies sending a ripple of fear down my spine. I put the unused bag of bedding between us just in case he decides to unleash his mind melting ray.
Sheldon glances back towards his run then back to me.
“I cleaned your run first and put clean straw in your house,” I tell him.
Like any character in a horror film, I did the stupid thing and moved the bag of bedding aside which enables Sheldon the opportunity to grab my pant leg and pull me a few inches. He looks again towards his house. Not sure what I am supposed to see I follow his stare.
Hilda, his love, is pacing back and forth in front of their house. Her white little body emanates sadness.
“Sheldon, what is going on?”
He begins his waddling journey towards his love. Pausing to look back to assure I was following.
When I reach the front of their little house I ask, “What is wrong?”
My question is answered with an explosion of feathers and clucking from the door of the duck house. Three of my chickens cluck happily that they had just finished decorating the duck’s home for them. Straw had poof up into the air in the chicken’s exciting exit.
Hilda waddled up to the house door. The new clean straw was mostly outside of the house. Hilda looks at me with sad eyes and bows her head down. Sheldon gave me the stink eye that said, “I watched the movie The Birds last night. Need I say more.”
I retreat to the straw bale, grab a large chunk of straw, and put it in the duck house. Hilda waddles in and I can hear her happily quacking as Sheldon takes his position in front of the door. His expression says, No chicks allowed.
I know I need to assert that I am the boss, so I look Sheldon in the eye and think orange sauce, he looks away.

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