A duck in the barn

“Gimpy” the Duck

A few weeks ago Phil told me that Travis had come to him with his feathers ruffled, so to speak. 

“Phil,” said Travis indignantly, “a duck in the barn! A duck in the barn!  Ducks are not in barns, horses are in barns!” 

Phil was tickled by Travis' outrage over the duck.  He told me a camper family had dropped off a pair of ducks with their camper (a little black dog mysteriously appeared over the summer also and we're wondering if maybe Ranch Camp is gaining a reputation for a different sort of respite care than the one we're famous for). 

One duck has apparently disappeared but today the survivor showed up in the barn again.

Jennifer says he's figured out feeding times for the horses, and waddles up from the pond twice a day right on schedule to sneak some oats scattered by the horses as they gobble their breakfast and dinner.

He's a fine duck, but we don't know how long he'll last.  He doesn't seem able to fly, and has a noticeable limp. 

“He broken,” said Rebekah sadly.

And the little black dog? 

His name now is now Barnie, and he lives (where else?) in Barnabas House.