But the thing I liked best of all was to see Betty's seven white ducks
crowd up to the kitchen door every time any one appeared with a pan of
scraps. Such gabbling and quacking, such pushing and such stepping on
each other and on the chickens, in their eagerness to get there first,
was almost laughable. In fact, the pink-toed pigeons that walked up
and down the ridge of the barn roof, did make fun of them openly. Had
I not known the ducks were well fed and so fat they could scarcely
waddle, I might have thought they were really hungry, but I soon
discovered that they were simply greedy.
Standing on tiptoe and stretching up their long necks they often seized
the food before it had a chance to fall to the ground. By this good
management they usually got more than the chickens. Joe accused Betty
of being partial to the ducks.
"You allus give 'em the best of everything, and twice as much as you do
the chickens," he complained.
"They get the most because they've got the most confidence in me," said
Betty, putting on a very wise look. "They come close up to me, while a
chicken shies off and misses the goodies coz she's silly enough to be
afraid. Besides, the ducks are mine. I raised 'em. I paid twenty
cents a setting for the eggs out of my own money, and when you raise a
thing you generally like it the best.
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