Olwë's sense of purpose

Olwë the duck is a warrior. When we enter his pen he comes at us full charge, pecking your feet. If you bend over he’ll peck any other part of you that seems vulnerable. We humans are dozens of times larger than this little 6 pound duck, but he is absolutely fearless in the face of that threat.

Not a threat to him, as it turns out, but a threat to his beloved. A threat to his duck-hen soul-mate, Rosie. He always would follow Rosie as she went on an explore, staying close behind and taking on any creature that dared to approach her. Their relationship always reminded me of a couple where one partner loves to explore, and has a sense of adventure, and the other prefers a comfy couch, the peace of home, and a Netflix subscription. Olwë is a homebody. Rosie loved the largeness of the world. I say “loved”, because several weeks ago, Rosie very suddenly died. She was fine the day before, laid an egg, was busy and eager. In the morning, she was gone. We were shook. Rosie was an angel. She had such a sweet nature, and was so pretty. She was a favorite to so many people that came to visit. We had a necropsy performed, to find out the cause of her passing, and it was quite inconclusive. Apparently her intestine got twisted and blocked blood flow. Although such things can be caused by parasites, the lab work showed no evidence of infection. It remains a mystery. Rescues are so uncertain, we often know nothing of their past…

Olwë is clearly grieving as well. His purpose in life was to protect her. Immediately, with Rosie gone, Olwë ceased to attack us. He would let you stroll into his pen and barely even paid you any attention. I could come close to him and he would waddle a little bit out of distance, but he showed zero aggression.  This caused me to think about an interview I heard recently of the author Michael Pollan. He suggested that so many of the things that we have attributed as  “human only” characteristics keep showing up in our animal cousins. Some use tools, some have elements of culture, a simple form of language, rituals for dead relatives, etc. This leads me to think about our beautiful and fierce drake. How can you describe his warrior vigilance to protect his beloved as anything but a sense of purpose? Even this, even a sense of purpose, is carried by our furred and feathered friends. Olwë has demonstrated this with such clarity.  

We’ve been enjoying a tradition called poetry night lately. It’s where we cook an excellent meal, and invite a few friends, volunteers, kids, whoever’s around, to join us. After we eat, everyone takes turns reading something they find inspiring. It doesn’t need to be poetry, but it often is. Here’s a poem I wrote for Olwë for a recent Poetry night:

My watch is over

My watch is now over

I’m resigning my commission 

The spirit of battle 

Is now deep in remission 

My weapon shall rust

My sword, now cuts cake, and

The purity I guarded 

Has been lost. Has been taken 

She shone, how she shone

In the pond, gently humming

My purpose, was my service 

To this pearl, my becoming 

I will wait, and retire 

In the newly dulled sun

For my heart, too, is faded 

And my watch, is now done 

+++++++

We’ve been worried about his health. Grief is hard on the immune system, and does little for the will to live. Once we found out that there was no contagious pathogen involved in Rosie’s death, we sought a new partner for him. And folks, this sad story has a happy ending.  Thanks to the collaboration with some other compassionate sanctuaries, sensitive to Olwë’s plight, a partner has been found. Arwen joined us last weekend, and she and Olwë have been getting along great. No one can replace the magnificent Rosie. But Arwen is curious, friendly, and immediately has been staying very close to our hero knight. 

We hope dear Olwë’s attacks will soon be renewed. Along with his sense of purpose. Atta boy Olwë.

Olwë and Arwen