You should know that all of my friends and family are snorting right now because they know that I don't know much Spanish.
But, I do know some and I'm going to share what little I know.
In spite of what you might think, with this being a farm-ish blog, the name of this post is not talking about llamas. Cute as llamas may be, and oh my goodness, wouldn't it be fun if we had one?!
Wait. I cannot go down that road. We have miles to go before we can justify getting a llama. There are a few things we need to do around here first. Like build a bedroom with actual doors.
But I digress.
Actually, "Como te llamas?" means, "What's your name?" asked in a very friendly, informal way. If you were being uber polite or talking to a stranger, you would say, "Como se llama?" or "Como se llama usted?" (I'm dispensing, by the way, with finding all of the special characters on my keyboard like the fantastic little upside down question mark and accent marks that would make this a more authentic discussion. What can I say? I feel too lazy at the moment to look them up. Roll with me.)
The "te" turns the question from formal to familiar, and I'm going for familiar and friendly when I ask this question. Do you know why?
It's because I'm asking it of these sweet ladies who I want to feel welcome; to feel that I am a friendly and familiar face.
After watching them today, asking their input and puzzling over their names, I've settled on ones that I think are perfect. From left to right, we have Sue, Autumn, Pheebs and Mallory.
Sue got her name because I was standing in the chicken coop this morning, scattering fresh straw for added warmth and freshness, when one of the orange chickens jumped in to start digging in the straw, then a little white duck head poked through the doorway to see what was going on, and I thought, "Oh, there's Sue." Then I realized yep, that's her name. She's Sue.
(It is pure coincidence that I now have ducks named Doris and Sue, which just happen to be the names of two of my Dad's wonderful sisters, whom I love dearly and who, in no way, resemble ducks.)
Now, on to Autumn. I named her this because for years and years I wanted to name a little girl "Autumn Grey" and no one would let me. My mom, sister, husband, friends -- NO ONE in my life liked the name "Autumn Grey." I always thought it was lovely and beautiful and subdued and mysterious. No one would indulge me. So, when a darling grey, petite little duck showed up in our chicken yard, I indulged myself. Autumn it is. Pffffttthhhhhhhhhttttt!! (Sorry, I've waited a long time to win on this one.)
Pheebs gets her name in remembrance of another little black runner duck named Phoebe that we had a couple years ago who had a tragically short life when a heavy object fell into the brooder box and killed her. Phoebe belonged to Macy, and while she couldn't agree to naming our new black runner duck Phoebe, she did agree that Pheebs was a nice alternative.
And, finally, we have Mallory. Forgive me for being completely unimaginative on this one, but really, what else could I have named her? It's so obvious that's her name.
And, there you have it. Our flock/herd/gaggle/bunch of ducks have their very own names. Now to build them their very own pen, so Wyatt the Rooster will quit pushing his amorous intentions on them.
Just because they're in the chicken yard, Wyatt, doesn't mean they're yours. Now stay off. We won't be having any attempts at making the world's first "ducken" portion of the "turducken" on this farm.
Love from the farm,