Grouchy ducks, grumpy geese and other undesirable animals

Our mother was out at the clothesline while the rest of us were in the house. Suddenly, she burst through the back door, so frightened and angry she couldn't speak clearly.

She kept asking for a shotgun or a rifle, and all I could imagine was that a mountain lion or something akin was in the back yard. Finally, our mother calmed down enough to say, "That damned duck!" and we understood her fright, but we knew it wasn't a big deal.

One of us had dragged home an old male Muscovy duck, given to our family by others who couldn't abide him. Over the years our place became a sanctuary for various pets that no one else wanted. I think a lot of their ancestors had been kicked off Noah's Ark because of their personalities, and somehow survived the flood, only to end up at our place.

We named the duck Nasty. His problem was that he attacked people, sinking his claws into their jeans and beating them with his wings. He gave no warning, and preferred to come from behind. He was a big, heavy bird, and a frightening surprise for anyone, especially our mother, who wasn't too keen on any animal.

When Nasty set at us he refused to quit, no matter how far or hard he was kicked. It wasn't enough to run because Nasty followed. He was old, but had stamina.

One day I had a bucket of water in my hand and poured it on him while he was having at me.. That did it. He turned into the lovable old rascal, looking for affection which was his other personality. As soon as he was dry, the old personality returned.

Nasty was with us for years, and we learned to take his attacks as commonplace – all of us except my mother.

Another vicious bird we kept was an old male goose. He didn't make surprise attacks, but came at us from the front, using his wings and beak as weapons. A healthy kick usually sent him off, head high, and honking defiantly in his imagined victory.

One time he caught our youngest brother (just a toddler at the time) crawling under a corral gate, and marked his face up pretty badly. The goose meant business.

It was during the winter when a cow or a horse kicked him and broke his leg, Being a cripple, the others pushed him out of the bunch. That changed his personality and he attached himself to our father.

When he knelt down, the goose always came up, peeping and chirping like a juvenile bird. The goose rubbed his neck and head all over our father, all the while making sounds of affection.

It took most of the winter, but the old gander's leg healed, and the others let him back into the fold. As soon as he was comfortable with his new life, he turned back into the vicious beast he really was, and we all had to avoid him once again.

I don't remember how it happened, but the family came into possession of an ancient billy goat – another reject from Noah's boat. He was big and horned, plus you could smell him from 100 yards away. The goat hung with our band of ewes, and only became aggressive when he was in the corral. When I was alone I always roped him and tied him to a fence, then turned him loose when I let the ewes out into the meadow. One evening I was in another part of the corral and looked up to see our father chasing the goat while whacking on him with a shovel. Evidently the goat caught my father from behind and got his attention.

One winter the old goat was lying under the hay rack. My father didn't notice and pulled out, not noticing that the animal had his horns caught in the trailer bed.

My father dragged him over snow covered roads for about a mile. When he saw that the old billy was hurt, he loaded him into our ancient Jeep station wagon and hauled him the 50 miles to the vet in Deer Lodge.

It became a joke in the valley that our father showed such concern for a completely worthless animal. One evening there were a number of people at the bar, and they all signed a very nice get well card, sending it to the goat at the vet clinic.

Soon, a beautifully penned and black edges letter on heavy paper arrived. And with sympathies, announced that beast had passed on to the luxuriant goat pastures in the sky.

We had other animals. The skunk was with us for a long time, but the pack rat didn't survive long.

I think that the mild empathy we showed for undesirable animals helped us to culture an empathy for other beings of the same type – including humans who are the most dangerous of all.