21/10/2026
We built our ducks a palace. 🦆
A proper duck house, a lush green paddock, a good distance from the chickens — because when ducks and chickens share a space, nobody is happy. (There were words. There was drama. A level of passive-aggressive side-eye I didn’t know poultry were capable of.)
So we moved the ducks to their fancy new digs — barbed wire, electric fence, the works — and spent what felt like a small eternity catching them and settling them in.
It worked! For everyone except one.
One duck keeps finding her way back to the chicken run. We catch her, carry her back to her tribe, tuck her in with her own kind. A day or two later? There she is again. Back with the chickens. Utterly unbothered by our very sensible plan for her life.
I’ve decided to just… let her be.
Because as I watched her waddle back for the hundredth time, it hit me — she knows something. She knows where she wants to be, and no fence, no plan, no amount of me insisting otherwise is going to override that inner knowing.
And I thought: how often are we the opposite of that duck?
How often do we override our own knowing? Our body waves a flag — the exhaustion, the mood, the cycle gone haywire — and instead of listening, we push through. We trust the app over the actual signs. We let everyone’s “shoulds” drown out what our body’s been telling us all along.
Our bodies are a bit like that rogue duck. They know. We were just never taught to listen.
Be the duck. 🦆💛
