He came to us about a year ago along with two cows. The three of them were given to us by a very interesting sadhu with dreadlocks, who couldn’t keep them anymore as he was relocating to Rishikesh for a better life. Tinku Lal (named lovingly by his carer, Akhilesh) was a lonely, sad, and angry duck when he arrived. He was not socialized at all. He would chase us whenever we went near him and nip rudely at our legs. Even the hens and roosters lived in mortal fear of him. So, he lived in solitary splendour in his large cage, not even wanting to come out. It was all very worrying.

When the lockdown began and I moved to the Hapur farm, I decided to do some serious therapy on Tinku Lal and work consciously on making him a happier duck. We had some lovely adolescent goose babies who had been born the previous winter at the farm sanctuary in Noida. I chose a few from the flock and brought them over to be Tinku Lal’s new companions.

Now, since Tinku Lal had grown up alone, he mercifully didn’t know he was a duck in the first place—and he surely had no clue that the newcomers were geese either.

At first, he was outraged to have any company at all and summarily chased them out of his enclosure with a flurry of quacks. The geese, who had been raised by a large, happy, gregarious flock, were aghast at his rudeness and honked loudly in protest for an entire afternoon. So we got to work on a socialization schedule. Akhilesh, who looks after the animals, earned many bruises and nips on his legs in the process.

There were many weeks of staring matches, kabaddi-style stalking, fighting, and long, meaningful silences. But slowly and steadily, Tinku Lal began to thaw. He now tolerated them in the same enclosure—grudgingly—and even allowed them to eat from the same bowl. A total miracle.

In the meantime, the 14 dogs who serve as land and air traffic control on the farm were suitably horrified to see these new feathered inmates. They waited stealthily in corners, trying to figure them out. Akhilesh lost some hair and several kilos keeping an eye on the bunch, and eventually forgot how to count beyond five because his entire evening was spent keeping tabs on the flock.

We began a schedule of evening walks, where the geese and Tinku Lal would stroll around the farm for half an hour. This seemed to really help. Tinku Lal became the boss. He led them around, decided when pool time was over and snack time began, and when they could all ruminate together on the grass. He carved out a new purpose for himself. So, while I thought I was rehabilitating Tinku Lal, he thought he was rehabilitating the geese—and all of us were happy.

Over the course of a month, everyone slowly got used to the idea of being around each other. Tinku Lal was officially crowned Super Boss, and ever since, peace has reigned on the farm.

The geese honk, the duck quacks, and the dogs peacefully watch them go by. The hens, roosters, and crows all eat together. And by the way, amongst all the varied cuisine on the farm, the dog food is the unanimous favourite. The crows are the official tasters. So now, the farm is officially called “Dogpur.”

Lesson:
🌸 Good company (not necessarily from your own species)
🌸 Good food shared among a community
🌸 Fresh air and exercise
🌸 And playing BOSS 😈😈😈

…is the key to happiness.

Farm life mantras. 🤪🤪🤪

Aparna Rajagopal