I am a teller of stories in many genres. They have appeared in Shotgun Honey. I have several stories in the 2020 and 2021 BOULD AWARDS ANTHOLOGY available on Amazon. A series of Revenge stories appear in the YELLOW MAMA EZINE in 2021 and 2022. My story "Bourbon and Bitters" appears in the 2021 Tomorrow and Tomorrow Anthology "Ghosts". You can read my poetry in The Delta Poetry Review and the Five=Two Crime Poetry Review.
AND REMEMBER
There are three things that Southerners are adamant about. First, we love our families, even though we continue to refine Webster's definition of 'dysfunctional'. Second, we love food, preferably fried, but boiled in spices or served raw with adult beverages will do too. Finally, we love legends, tall tales and small stories, preferably passed on from one dysfunctional family generation to another while sharing fried, boiled and raw food and cold libations. My stories rise like the fog and mist along empty highways at midnight, or in crowded bars in big cities, or in the cities of the dead, or in fields around antebellum mansions or gator infested bayous. And, like the old, yellow cur that roamed the main street of every small town in America, the people, some a long time dead, are waiting to tell us their stories of the whimsical, fantastical, comical, criminal and mystical situations that make up the human condition. And so I invite you to meet them and share their stories to help the magic to continue. And soon you too will realize that you can't outrun your blood or the old, yellow cur.
When I am not writing I am spending time at home in New Orleans with my husband, our two cats and the friends and family that have made my life "The Stuff Dreams are Made Of!"
“Lord, Love a Duck!”
By
Pamela Ebel
Farley Davis finished his second cup of coffee as he ambled down the gravel driveway to the county road. It was 4:30 on a clear, cool, crisp October morning, Farley’s favorite time of the year.
A wooden box, made to look like Farley’s large red barn, secured to a fence post, brought the mail and newspaper to him each day. His wife Cora had built the barn facsimile out of old scrap wood years before and given it to him for his fortieth birthday. She died of cancer when they were both just fifty and Farley had missed her every day for fifteen years. But the box always made him smile, just as looking up at the wooden sign that hung over the driveway to his house and barn did.
A large piece of cypress cut from one of his trees and smoothed to a shiny patina served as the back drop for the bright red letters that Cora had painted on it. He looked up at the sign and then beyond to the moon.
“Good morning Mrs. Davis. Mr. Davis down here, hoping you slept well last night and that you are still waiting for me. I will be there, so don’t give up on me. And thanks again for the sign. All the animals love it and we all miss you. I love you.”
As Farley removed the paper and headed back up the driveway, the moon shifted a bit and the red letters came into focus:
Duck Downs Fowl & Poultry Farm!
628 Hansen Road, Laurel, Mississippi
He put his coffee cup and paper down on the front porch and headed toward the big, red barn that sat several hundred feet behind the house. Since it was just shy of 5 a.m., the ducks, geese, turkeys, and chickens were still asleep in their pens and nesting boxes. ‘Duck Downs’ was a special poultry farm. The fine feathered-friends who resided there were hand-raised so that they were ready for their jobs at petting zoos and businesses that provided comfort animals for hospitals, nursing homes and children with special needs.
But Sam and Buttons, the Morgan draft horses snorted softly to remind Farley they were ready for oats and fresh water.
About to pass the last of the large cages, Farley stopped at the one on the end. While all the others still slept, one duck stood silently with his bill next to the wire. He looked out at Farley with huge, sad eyes. The space next to him in the cage was worn down as if another duck had fixed it for sleep, but there was only one pair of sad eyes staring out.
“Good morning Yellow Fellow. Still not sleeping? You miss Bernice. I know the feeling my friend and it doesn’t get any better when you’re by yourself.”
Farley opened the cage door and picked the big male duck up and held him close and stroked his pale yellow feathers. The duck’s mate Bernice had been attacked by a bobcat one late afternoon a month before and now the he barely ate and drank enough to keep himself alive. Doc Patterson had paid a visit a few days before, but said there was nothing he could do.
“Most fowl are alike Farley. They mate for life and are lost without their other half.”
“Well, this is the first time I’ve ever had a death in a pair and I feel bad for him. I’ve tried putting three different single females with him and he just turns his back on them. Don’t they ever find another duck to be with?”
“Some times. But it has to be a special feeling that comes up. Look at you, my dear friend. It has been fifteen years since Cora passed and I don’t think that you have gone out but maybe three times.”
Farley was preparing to debate the differences between man and fowl. However, since Doc Patterson had been caring for all form of animals, fish, and fowl in the Laurel area for over forty years, he guessed he would lose. Now as he headed toward the horse stalls, he carried Yellow Fellow with him and continued the conversation about needing to find a way to get through the grief of losing the love of one’s life.
Two hours later, all of the animals in the barn had been released to their various pens for the day, fed and watered. Deciding it was time for another cup of coffee and some breakfast, Farley was about to close the gate to the large fenced-in pen for the chickens, ducks, and geese when he saw Yellow Fellow coming toward him at a rapid waddle. Stopping in front of the man, he looked up and spread his wings forward, as if begging to be picked up. Shaking his head Farley, scooped up the duck and headed to the house.
At one o’clock that afternoon, while he caught up on his book work and made the schedule for his men to deliver the next load of chickens and geese to various hospitals, and nursing homes, Farley looked over at his couch where the big duck, having had two bowls of corn flakes for both breakfast and lunch, slept contentedly atop the wool shawl Cora had knitted a few months before she became sick.
The routine continued for the next month, with Yellow Fellow following Farley around while he did his outdoor chores; riding shot gun when he drove the old Ford pickup to town for supplies and sharing meals with him, including at the ´Cup of Joe Cafe´, where Farley had dinner once a week. Sam Cantor, the owner of the café said business picked up when the odd couple appeared.
At one of the dinners at the café Farley’s longtime friend Bill Collins, while reading the paper, happened across the personal ads where individuals were looking to meet a kindred spirit.
“Why don’t you put an ad in the paper to find Yellow Fellow a mate Farley? Nothing says you can’t look for matches for animals and fowl!”
Bill, and the rest of Farley’s single male friends, who met for dinner once a month, all laughed and said the idea ‘just might fly!’
Yellow Fellow looked around the table at the men and then settled closer to Farley on the booth bench and went to sleep. The conversation turned to the two most favorite topics for farmers and ranchers in the area, local politics, and the weather. When dinner was over, Farley and Yellow Fellow headed home.
“You know that idea about an ad might not be such a bad idea. Doc Patterson said sometimes another right one comes along. You can’t keep living with me forever, you know. You should be with other ducks.”
Yellow Fellow looked at Farley with a serious duck face and nuzzled his hand with his bill. Farley shook his head and laughed as he reached out to stroke the duck’s soft back.
“Well, we’ll think about it some more in the morning.” With that the man, and his duck turned the old Ford onto the gravel driveway into ‘Duck Downs’.
The next day Farley and Yellow Fellow drove downtown and visited the Laurel Leader-Call newspaper office. Serving all of Jones County, the paper was read by just about everyone in the area. Farley explained what he wanted to post in the personal column while the duck waddled around the foyer examining framed copies of notable stories from the paper’s past.
Clarice Noble made sure that Farley wasn’t playing a joke on her and then disappeared into the editor’s office. Soon, Sean Murphy emerged and greeted Farley warmly. The editor and his wife supported the comfort fowl program and he had heard stories of the duck that had become Farley’s constant companion recently.
“Farley, Yellow Fellow, good to see you both. I am not aware of any policy that prevents us from placing the ad. So, what do you want it to say?”
With that the editor retrieved a form and pencil from Clarice’s desk and stood with an expectant smile.
The next morning the following ad appeared in the personal column:
“Duck seeking Duck. Lonesome runner duck seeks companion.
Partner recently deceased. Serious replies only.”
An email address dedicated to responses received several over the next four days. Farley and Yellow Fellow considered them all and called two, but nothing was really clicking. Then an email came that set Farley back on his heels.
“Dear Lonesome Duck,
I am the owner of the Piney Woods Funeral Home. We are one of the first to operate a columbarium in our area of the state. We accept the ashes of humans and their pets to be laid to rest side by side. This past week, we received a request to handle the funeral arrangements for one of Hattiesburg’s notable citizens. She left specific instructions that she be cremated and picked a vault in the new columbarium to house her ashes. She has left Piney Woods Funeral Home a generous bequest if we can meet her requirement concerning her pet.
The pet is a female duck named Tallulah Bankhead. The duck resided in the house with the deceased for twelve years and is bereft without her owner. We will receive the bequest if we can give proper assurances to the attorney representing the estate that an appropriate and safe home has been found for Tallulah so that she can live out her natural life and then be buried with the deceased.
We have no experience with ducks and are at a loss on where to look for a new home for Tallulah. My daughter saw your ad and I am wondering if we might meet and see if an arrangement can be made for you and Tallulah to become a pair? Please respond to this email if you are interested. Some ‘dowry’ would certainly be considered for Tallulah’s upkeep.
Sincerely,
Kay Kraft, Funeral Director
After some reflection and consultation with Yellow Fellow, Farley emailed Ms. Kraft. He said he and his duck would be pleased to meet with she and Tallulah. Two days later they arrived at Piney Woods Funeral Home. They were ushered into a warm, inviting visiting room.
“Mr. Davis? I’m Kay Kraft. And this must be Yellow Fellow? I am so pleased to meet you both.”
Farley turned to stare into the face of a beautiful woman that he estimated to be in her fifties. She had dark brown hair with just a hint of gray at the sides. She wore it pulled up in a 1950’s style French Twist like his wife had always favored. Deep blue eyes offered a warm greeting as Kay crossed the room and shook Farley’s hand.
“I want to thank you for coming. In my business you get used to the strange and sometimes bizarre requests. Still this business with Tallulah is a first for me. And the will is explicit about finding a situation for the duck that will guarantee she will have a mate and be well cared for. The attorney for the estate did some investigating and says you might help. I really hope that our ducks might get along.”
Farley was barely listening to Kay’s speech, so taken was he by her. Finally, Yellow Fellow nudged his leg.
“I am hoping something can be worked out also. You said your daughter saw the ad. I am sure she and your husband must be anxious for a resolution.”
“My husband passed away ten years ago. This was his family business. I needed an income when he died so I took the funeral home over. It was never my intention to keep it. The problem was that I soon realized how many people need a special place to grieve at a special time and so here I am. But I want to retire and let my daughter take over. The bequest will put the business and me on a strong financial footing. What happened to your duck’s companion and why hasn’t he found another?”
“I guess he’s sort of like me. My wife has been gone fifteen years and I never found anyone to take her place. Yellow Fellow is the same. But I am hoping this might work.”
“Well then gentlemen, let’s go see what Tallulah Bankhead has to say.”
They found Tallulah settled in a large nesting crate with her back to them as they approached.
“She knows Mrs. Atherton is in that vault and she won’t eat or drink anything unless she is here. She just sits and stares at it. I know how she feels. Sometimes you think being where your loved one’s remains are makes you feel closer, even when they are long gone.”
Farley nodded, knowing what she was saying was true. Yellow Fellow pushed to be freed from Farley’s grasp. Moving tentatively toward the cage the duck began making soft noises between a coo and a cluck.
“That’s how ducks talk to each other, and particularly to the opposite sex. I haven’t heard Yellow Fellow make those noises since Bernice died. And I haven’t seen him approach a female since then either.”
Yellow Fellow advanced down the path, his noises getting a bit louder. Tallulah turned her head around to examine the pale-yellow duck moving toward her. Then she stood, turned around and moved to the door of her cage. A couple of feet from her he stood up to his full height and, raising his wings, moved them forward toward her.
Tallulah took a couple of steps out of her cage and stared at the yellow male as he continued to reach for her with his wings. Then she moved toward him and stood up too. She raised her wings and stretched them out toward Yellow Fellow making the same cooing noises.
As Farley and Kay watched they began to move in a circle in a beautiful dance with their wing feathers touching. As they did so a bright light appeared in the sky and stretched down to the walkway. Soon a mist grew from the circle the ducks had made and the aura of a woman drifted skyward and floated to the bright light.
She turned slowly and smiled at the two couples.
“You did well Kay. You have found Tallulah her new home until it is time to come home to me. So, it is time for me to go.”
She moved up the path of bright light, where a woman with auburn hair set in a French Twist stood.
“It is time for you to let go of me for now Farley. I will be here, but you and Kay and Tallulah and Yellow Fellow have new lives to make together. And Kay, Mel sends his love and the same message.”
The two women disappeared as the light faded. Farley and Kay looked at each other then picked up their ducks and started back down the path to a new life.
A few minutes later the gardener appeared to water. When he got to the vault where the cage sat open, he moved it out of the way and looked at the inscription:
Mrs. Jennifer Marie Atherton
1923 – 2019
“Lord, Love a Duck!”
“
Mysteries and Tales from the Crossroads of America
3101 N Causeway Blvd, Suite D Metairie, LA 70002 US
Copyright © 2023 Mysteries and Tales from the Crossroads of America! - All Rights Reserved.
Powered by GoDaddy