Donna Wartman - Once Over Easy

Recipe for Ducklings
or
Once Over Easy

It was spring. My mare, Misty, was due to foal soon. The rabbits were heavy with baby bunnies. The Muskovie duck was sitting on her eggs in the woods somewhere. She was hiding from our pet pig because he had a nasty habit of breaking up her nest. I was in my eighth month of pregnancy with my fourth child. There were so many due date marks on the calendar that I really could not remember which was for me (my baby).

Mama Muskovie (the duck) would come in every morning to eat her feed and also take a refreshing dip in our small lake. Her damp wings would then furnish her eggs, the moisture which was essential to their hatching. She had to cross a road to get to her well-secreted nest. Then it happened! A car hit her as she came over for her evening feed. My two small boys found her lifeless body on the side of the road. The oldest boy gathered her in his arms and crying, he and his brother carried her to me. It was too late. She was dead. But wait What about the eggs in her nest? I hurried to my calendar to look for her due date. If my calculations were right, they should be ready to hatch in three or four days.

Do you know where her nest is? I asked my boys. I do, said the oldest, because I followed her there once. It was getting dark, but I got my clothes basket, put some soft rags in the bottom, got my flashlight, and off we went. The trip was not easy because I had to get through some barbwire fence. Due to my enormous belly, the squeeze was very tight. Deep into the woods we went and then my son stopped by a large tree. I could see with my flashlight that there was a hollow at the base of the trunk. Gingerly I reached into the dark depth of the hole. Warm down greeted my uncertain hand. Under the down were warm eggs. Carefully I took them out one by one. We made it back to the house in the dark. Once inside, the terrible thought hit me. What do I do now? My boys were anxiously looking at me with the trusting look that children give their mothers.

I did not have a proper incubator, this meant I had to come up with something as a substitute. Suddenly, the thought occurred to me, the electric frying pan. Two wide-eyed boys watched as mother set up and plugged in the frying pan. Are you going to cook the eggs? they asked in horror. I hope not, was my reply. What temperature should I set the fry pan at? I questioned myself. The only thermometer we had in the house was a rectal thermometer. Alter much adjusting of the controls on the electric fry pan and many times shaking down the thermometer, I finally decided: you set it on simmer, and it wont go over one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, which is a little above body temperature. To play it safe, I put an old wool scarf that I had soaked with water and wrung out in the bottom of the pan. Gently I placed the eggs (twelve of them) on the warm bed in the frying pan. Then I marked an X on the top side of each egg. The mother duck turns the eggs under her, so I would have to be their mother. The X helped me to keep order in the turning. The cover of the frying pan was then placed on it (with the vent holes opened). This kept the eggs moist so the shells would not harden. Every time I turned the eggs (about two or three times in twenty-four hours), I added more water each time (about one-half cup). At the end of the second day, I could actually hear the little ducks peeping in their shells. I shared this miracle with my small sons.

My boys went to school and announced to the first and second grade children, Our mother is hatching eggs in the frying pan. They all laughed at them. Even the teachers thought it a foolish story.

Early in the morning of the third day as I basted my eggs, I noticed small cracks in the eggs. They were starting to hatch! I woke up my boys and said, You are not going to school today! It occurred to me that what they could witness and learn at home that day was invaluable. As they sat on the table with their eyes fixed on the eggs in the frying pan, they saw a miracle of birth. As each duckling emerged and struggled to get out of its shell, they stared wide-eyed. My youngest son, with tears streaming down his little face, said, If anyone of you is a Mama Muskovie, raise your hand. I took pictures of this happy occasion. After they were all hatched (all twelve of them), we placed them in a large dry box with wood shavings as a bed. I hooked up a light with a reflector over them to keep them warm. Soon they were all dried off and hungry. What to feed them? Luckily I had been to the library and found a book about raising little ducks. I fed them cottage cheese and crumbled hardboiled egg yolks. This diet changed to a special starter feed in a few days. They also require lots of water to drink. I might add they also are very messy and require frequent changing of bedding. On the third day, I packed them all in a picnic basket which was bedded with green Easter grass, the yellow ducks in this green bedding was all too cute to behold.

After making arrangements with the teachers at school, we headed to the school to show all the unbelievers how to hatch ducks in a frying pan.

My oldest son stood proudly by the basket of ducks while all the first and second grade children gathered around, staring in awe. And you just tell your mother to put them on simmer, he said.

Recipe for Ducklings
(For Three to Five-Year-Olds)

It was spring, and Mama Duck was sitting on her eggs. She had built a nice soft net in the hollow of a tree in the woods somewhere. She was hiding from our pet pig Pokey, because Pokey had a bad habit of breaking up her nest and the eggs in it.

Mama Duck would come across the road every morning to eat her food and take a nice swim in our small lake. Her wet wings would keep her eggs damp, and this was important so the shells would not get too hard. Then, it happened. A car hit her when she crossed the road! My two small boys found her. She was badly hurt and not able to sit on her eggs to keep them warm.

Do you know where Mama Ducks nest is? I asked my boys. I do, said Jeff. It was getting dark, but I got my clothes basket and put some soft towels in it, got my flashlight, and off to the woods we went. Deep in the woods we walked, and then my son stopped by a large tree. There was a big hole in it. I very carefully put my arm in the hole. I felt a warm, soft bed. Then my hand touched themwarm eggs! Mama Duck had covered her soon-to-be babies with a warm blanket of her own soft feathers!

Carefully, I took the eggs out, one by one. I placed them in my basket and covered them with a towel to keep them warm. We made it back to our house before dark. All the way, I was thinking, What could I do to keep these eggs warm and hatch the baby ducks who were waiting inside to be born?

I did not have a proper incubator to hatch the baby ducks. What could I use? Suddenly I thought, What about the electric frying pan? My boys watched me wide-eyed. Are you going to cook them? they cried. No, I am just going to keep them warm, I said. I put a wet washcloth in the bottom of the fry pan, then I set it on simmer . That would keep the fry pan warm, but not cook the eggs.

Both boys went to school and told the teachers, Our mother is hatching ducks in the frying pan! Of course, their teachers did not believe them.

On the morning of the third day, I saw small cracks in the eggs I was keeping warm in the fry pan. I went to my boys bedroom and told them, You are not going to school today, I want you to watch the baby ducks hatch out of their eggshells!

As they sat on the table watching, the eggs in the frying pan crack open. They saw the baby ducks being born. One by one, they came out of their eggshells, peeping loudly. If any one of you is a mama duck, raise your hand, my young son Scott said with tears streaming down his cheeks. I took pictures of this happy time.