Jonas and the Duck-herder

Sweat trickled down Jonas’ back, quickly drenching his t-shirt as the tickle of droplets became uncomfortable. Jonas had always considered himself to be a healthy, fit man, telling anyone who asked, “The secret to my youth is hard work, and hard work is the secret to my limberness.” Jonas thought that was very clever, and he repeated it whenever possible. He knew he was a striking man for his age and was clearly a respectable townsman who people depended on. That must have been why Timothy had asked him to help build the pen.

           Timothy was not much older than Jonas, but his dad bod, beer belly and lazy TV nights made him look older than he was. His head was severely balding, and Jonas wondered why he never wore a hat considering that combover.

           “Thanks for letting me come build the pen with you,” Timothy said, wiping his brow with a rag that looked too dirty to be handled never mind used to wash anything.

           “No worries, Tim,” Jonas replied. He attempted to genuinely smile, but it was more a grimace as he concentrated on hammering in the last few nails. He honestly didn’t mind helping out a friend even if the task was certainly an odd one. Actually, odd doesn’t really describe it.

           “Your pen looks much better than mine,” Timothy said with his hand on hips. He seemed impressed with his workmanship, but he had barely broken out into a sweat. Jonas had done all the heavy lifting today, and he wasn’t about to let Timothy forget that, saying, “People say I’ve got the handicraft touch. Get that from grandpa. He built this barn, and the house I live in. And come to think of it, probably yours too.”

           “No, that was the Millers. Cost us a fortune,” Timothy said in a matter-of-fact manner. He didn’t take his eyes off the pen, nodding incessantly to himself. “Yep. This is good. All you need now are them ducks.”

           Jonas was hoping Timothy wouldn’t mention the ducks. When he agreed to this, he hoped that enough time would pass that Timothy would have forgotten that Jonas had agreed to join in on his eccentric hobby. But a deal’s a deal, and Jonas was not a man who broke his promises, well, in public anyway.

           “What you doin’ just now?” Timothy asked. His face gleamed like a child who just had permission to enter the sweet shop. “Fancy comin’ over and picking them up? I picked some grand ones for you. You’re gonna love them.”

           Somehow Jonas knew that there was no escaping the ducks. No matter what excuse he could come up with, Timothy would no doubt guilt-trip Jonas into picking up the ducks today. Actually, he wouldn’t intentionally guilt-tripped him; Jonas would have just pitied the man too much.

           So, Jonas walked Timothy back to his rusty, no-doored pick-up truck before he got into his pristine, recently serviced pick-up and followed Timothy off the farm. Turtle Town was a peaceful little place in the middle of expansive countryside. You could drive for an hour and not meet a soul amongst the rolling hills and farmland. It was high summer, but Jonas’ farm was luscious and fruitful. The cornfields towered over the road, and Jonas felt pride as they drove past the swaying stalks, knowing that Timothy must envy his profitable farm. After all, Jonas’ was breed to farm; it was in his blood for generations. He believed no farm in miles could compete with his. No one had any contradicting evidence so it must be true.

           It took about an hour and a half before Jonas arrived at Timothy’s farm, a brown crispiness as the fields dried in the sun. Had Jonas not known that this was Timothy’s property, he would have thought it had been abandoned. Maybe that’s why the farm had been sold in spring. Jonas wasn’t sure who had bought it, but he did feel for Timothy and his family having to vacate the land. Yet, that’s the reality of farming: some people just don’t have it in them.

 Timothy cheerily hopped out of his truck, “Do you want some lemonade? I can see Tammy coming out the house with a tray.”

           Jonas thought how Timothy must have called Tammy on the way hoping he was going to stay for supper, but Jonas knew that was never going to happen. “I kinda want to get the ducks into the pen,” Jonas said, hoping he sounded sincere.

           “You’re right,” Timothy said. “You must be excited. They should be out on the field.”

           Timothy walked Jonas away from the house and Tammy’s lemonade, but not before Timothy blew her a kiss. Jonas had never seen the ducks in action up close. He had only spied them from afar as he and Rick chugged beer cans on the hill overlooking Timothy’s property. He and Rick spent many evenings laughing their guts sore as they watched the spectacle of the ducks. It’s not that they didn’t like Timothy, but that Timothy kept giving them a reason to ridicule him.

           As they approached the open field, Jonas thought he could hear sheep bleating and the sounds of their hoofs as they trotted across the grass, but his mind was playing tricks on him. That’s what anyone would expect to see on a farm, but instead the sheepdog wasn’t chasing fluffy sheep around the field. No matter how many times, Jonas had seen it from a distance, the sight of the sheepdog herding the ducks was amusing and comical. Jonas could barely keep himself from laughing out loud, but he knew that this was Timothy’s passion – duck herding.

           “Bertie is gonna herd them straight over the field and into the pen in my barn. It’s mighty impressive,” Timothy beamed with pride as he waved to young Jimmy in the field. “So proud of my boy. Very forward-thinking of him to consider duck-herding instead of sheep. I remember when he was a little boy, and we would take Bertie, who was only pup then mind, to the ponds over there and he would herd those ducks like a pro.”

           Jonas decided not to say anything rather than risk laughing uncontrollably. He began to wonder what he was doing there with Timothy when he remembered exactly why. Some people may have thought Rick was simply better at Poker, but Jonas believed he cheated, plain and simple. After all, Rick had nothing left to bet. Then he goes ahead and bets that if he wins, Jonas would have to take up duck herding with Timothy. No manner of praying can produce that amount of luck. But a bet’s a bet. So here Jonas was being convinced to take up duck herding.

           “So what happens to the ducks when you leave the farm, Tim?”

           “Oh they’re coming with me, of course.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah, don’t you know? I’m world champion.”

           “In what?”

           “Duck herding. Been competing for years. Then last year this young rich fella - from somewhere in Europe no less - offers me a job. We’re gonna run a business together. Teaching people how to duck herd, making it like a team activity and fun and all that. But, of course, I needed to sell the farm for some collateral. But now I’m a business owner moving to Europe. How times change, eh, Jonas?”

           Indeed, they certainly did. Suddenly, Jonas realised that this happy, round man was in fact everything Jonas wanted to be.