This is Charlie Sheen, who came so named because of his, ahem, piggish sexual habits with the girl ducks. But really, he is much, much nicer than his drugged-out movie-star namesake, not to mention way cuter!
"Get my best side!"
"Wait, this is my best side!"
"Nope, every side is my best side!"
Charlie and I have deepened our relationship. I fear Gordon may be jealous. The other day, while I was sitting in a chair in the duck run, Charlie slowly approached me. At first I thought he was just checking me out, but then he began to quiver. Next, he pressed his beak against my arm and nibbled gently. Then he thrust his substantial chest again my forearm and tried to... mount it. I laughed so hard, I think it knocked him off.
But that didn't stop him. Next he took aim at my leg, with the same routine: quiver, nibble, hump. Slid off again, and walked away looking sad.
I thought he'd figured out that I wasn't the duck for him. After all, what man wants a woman who laughs outright at his amorous attentions?
But no. Yesterday, while filling the duck pool, I was once again approached by Mr. Frisky. Quiver. Nibble. Hump (the arm again!) Sly look followed by tail waggle.
You'd think he could at least have taken me out for a drink first!
Meanwhile, Eugenia is now sitting on TWELVE eggs and pecks at my Birkenstock-clad feet every time I dare to go in the duckhouse. It's stinking hot here (supposed to hit 35C tomorrow with the humidex making it feel like upwards of 45 C, YUCK!) so we have a fan in the duck house and I'm trying to find other ways to keep it from overheating, like a milkcrate full of ice packs.
Never a dull moment around here. And in Charlie's eyes, I apparently still have it, middle-aged or not.