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Chickens are the universal symbol of urban homesteading. Instagrammers pose with one tucked under an arm as a self-sufficiency flex. But what if I told you raising backyard chickens in Portland is a mistake—whereas a flock of ducks will keep you laughing and brimming with eggs all your days?
The first principle of intelligent gardening is to work with your environment (the permaculture movement calls this principle “observe and interact”). So which species is better for the Pacific Northwest? Chickens who need a coop heater and protection from drafts, who get soggy in the rain and stop laying eggs in winter? Or ducks, who love cold, wet and muddy weather and play in the snow—with a unique heat-exchange system in their feet to prevent frostbite while insulated in thick down like the most expensive winter coats?
Chickens need individual nesting boxes and fight for preferred spots, while ducks have a more communal approach to laying eggs (which is: wherever you feel like it, man). Sometimes an egg will pop out of a duck’s rear while she’s just standing around, surprising even her. (I have video of this; it’s hilarious.) To compensate for this haphazardness, the shells of duck eggs are twice as thick as those of a chicken’s. Also, ducks don’t make noise while laying; unlike chickens who alert the neighborhood, they’re more discreet and humble. Ducks aren’t protective of eggs like chickens because of a migratory instinct that keeps them from getting too attached to one place; if food runs low, the flock will be moving again. Spring, it should be said, is a little different, and allowing a duck to accumulate a few eggs in a clutch might click her into “broody” mode, but for the most part, ducks are pretty unconcerned with their calcareous progeny.
While we’re broadly describing their distinct traits—how about chickens turning cannibalistic, pecking each other’s eyes out, and eating eggs? Meanwhile, duck fights could be set to “Yakety Sax” and resemble sumo wrestler shoving, not hemorrhagic violence. It rarely gets physical for ducks; mostly it’s posturing and snark, like a disgruntled barista.
Duck eggs are also better than chicken eggs. That’s not just culinary opinion; it’s science. The average weight of a “large” grade-A chicken egg is around 55 grams. Compare that with a duck egg, which is about 75 grams (my own flock record is a hefty 96 grams laid by Bertha, a fat Rouen). The yolks are higher in fat and proportionally larger. I’ve cracked open eggs that are 80% yolk. Due to the higher fat content, the French call duck eggs the “baker’s secret” for creating a rich and velvety texture. Chinese salted duck eggs are made by soaking them raw in the shell, in brine and spices for three to six months, resulting in a bright orange yolk that spreads like butter. It’s impossible to make with chicken eggs. Interestingly, duck eggs have different protein structures than chicken eggs, so many people allergic to chicken eggs can eat duck. And they lay more eggs per year than chickens.
Ducks are genetically engineered to be manageable. Akin to “herding cats,” “chasing chickens” is a visual trope for chaos. Not so with ducks. Millennia of human breeding have removed their ability to fly and also built in an instinctive “oppositional” trait. Ducks will follow hand signals, and since every duck follows every other duck, the whole flock trails along. Even across the yard, with a 3-foot length of white PVC, I can swoop my ducks into their house in seconds like an orchestra conductor. Chickens leaving the yard is another cliché—and a problem for chicken owners. Why did the duck cross the road? She didn’t—because only a chicken would leave a happy, secure home.
OK, there is the poop thing. Though there are many reasons to choose ducks over chickens, there’s only one legitimate counterargument I’ve heard, and it’s purely aesthetic. Everyone poops, but creatures’ quality and consistency can be awfully varied, from spherical rabbit marbles to Pope logs in the woods. Any other animal unloading like a duck would be described as having “explosive diarrhea.” Sometimes it shoots out with a cartoon “splorch” sound (hilarious!). They will splatter walls with it, and every egg needs to be cleaned. It’s far from Instagram-friendly.
Here’s the flip side of that, though. Ducks are pure recycling engines, shoving everything into their crop to make either more eggs or a fatter duck. They swallow gallons of mud to digest any organic matter, which makes them incredible pest control and fertilizer distributors. All winter, in downpours that keep chickens coop-bound, ducks churn up overwintering grubs and are the world’s best slug control. My constant apple tree problem—coddling moth larvae in every fruit—was solved in one winter by the ducks.
Finally: Ducks are just cooler. Chuck Berry duck-walked; drunken white people at weddings chicken dance. The word “duck”—meaning “dodge”—comes from the way they bob their heads in greeting, and “water off a duck’s back” is a metaphor for zenlike grace. Chickens are synonymous with cowardice, panic, inexperience, masturbation and creepiness. Case closed.
Getting Your Feet Wet
Tips for nascent duck husbandry.
Legalities:
Portland’s Title 13 allows up to four ducks (or chickens or pigeons or quail) without a permit on a standard residential lot, and up to six on lots over 10,000 square feet.
Where to get ducks:
Ducks are highly social animals; you must get at least two. For ducklings, Wilco Farm Store is one good in-town option. Metzer Farms is the West Coast’s premier source for ducklings, with over two dozen breeds to choose from, shipped via the U.S. Postal Service. Its website is also a vast resource for all things ducky. A word of warning: While adult ducks are cold-hardy, ducklings require a lot of care, including a brooder with heat lamps and draft protection. You can also start with adults; I began with a couple of grown ducks given to me by a friend, and have found more adult ducks through Craigslist over the years. A typical price for an adult duck is about $20. (Also, “Muscovy ducks” aren’t real ducks. Genetically they share a common ancestor with the chicken, while every domesticated duck is descended from the mallard. Muscovies have sharp claws, roost, fly, and lay even fewer eggs than chickens.)
More Daisy, less Donald:
Male ducks are annoying, and many duck people don’t bother keeping them. I have one drake, because I like the balance and I like to encourage the species’ full behavior. Drakes’ job in a flock is to watch for predators and have sex. Lots of sex. And duck sex is notorious for being rough, which means a few times each year I have to throw him into “duck jail” for a week or two so the girls can have peace while the feathers on their heads and necks regrow. If you do decide to get a drake, stick to one; more than one in a flock is a terrible idea.
Water:
At minimum, ducks need a bucket for drinking, for head-dunking to clear their breathing passages of mud, and for preening. If you can provide deep water for swimming, they’ll love it, and you’ll love watching—but it will get filthy. A 275-gallon IBC tote cut in half, with the valve on the bottom, makes water changes easier.
Food:
Basic chicken layer feed is fine. I also give them dry cat food as a treat (and a protein boost); they love it. They get seasonal stuff from the garden like strawberries, tomatoes, cucumbers, peaches and figs—and they go crazy for comfrey, which is full of calcium and other minerals.
Unwanted guests:
Like chickens or rabbits, ducks are prime dinner fare for raccoons and coyotes. Your ducks will need a secure pen at night, with the fencing buried about a foot deep into the ground to discourage digging. A simple box house will be more comfortable in wind and give a feeling of security when raccoons come around. Of course, stray bits of food and straw bedding is heaven for rats, so you’ll have to get used to killing them constantly. Sorry, that’s farm life.
