Comapanion Animals in Bali-The Light Side and The Dark
I’m a very slow learner. Despite continuing misadventures with Indian Runner Ducks, geese and Bali chickens, I still have a burning desire to keep fowl. I imagine fresh, organic eggs for breakfast. Tiny baby birds crouching under the outspread wings of their proud mama. Papa bird standing by to protect his little flock. Contented cheeps and chirps from the garden.
It is never like this in real life, however.
The goose got egg-bound, then had to be nursed through hypothermia in my bathroom. My first lot of ducks couldn’t figure out how to breed, then trampled the chicks that did manage to hatch. The second lot all had their faces bitten off by a civet in a single night. The chickens declined to be penned and dispersed through the jungle to be consumed by pythons or, if they were injudicious enough to return, by Daisy my ever-vigilant dachshund. But the blood of my farming grandparents will not be stilled. Last December, after a lengthy search, I acquired three Muscovy ducks, locally known as keririk.
These are big, heavy birds, low-slung and sensible. The red warts on their faces add a bit of character. Muscovies are calmer than the Runner ducks of the rice fields and their blue eyes have a glimmer almost of intelligence. They make no sound except for a gentle hiss, need little water and grow to an interesting size; drakes can reach 6 kg. When I was researching Muscovies on the internet, the first few listings were about the breed, and the remainder were recipes for Muscovy Duck with Peppercorn Sauce and the like. “Are you going to eat them?” people asked as they came to view the odd-looking creatures. “Of course not,” I replied indignantly. “This is breeding stock. We will eat the children.”
The children were a long time coming. It took Diego, the unpracticed drake, several months to figure out how to do the deed. Jemima and Eleanor were patient with him as he treaded their heads, wings and shoulders before finally getting it right. The girls sat on the nest together and five fluffy yellow chicks hatched the day I left for Canada. A week later they all died of exposure in a cold rainstorm, according to my staff. (You’d think ducks would tolerate water better, but it seems newly emerged chicks aren’t issued with raincoats right away.) By the time I returned the ducks were sitting on a new lot of eggs, which eventually hatched into 6 fluffy ducklings.
I bought a special watering device so they wouldn’t drown and soon they began picking up millet and finely chopped greens from the ground. A few days later two of the tiny birds managed to scale the high walls of their parent’s feeding bowl and fall in. One had drowned and the other, its wee head just above the waterline, was far gone with hypothermia. I dried it off as best I could, wrapped it in a warmed cloth and tucked it into my cleavage (I reckoned this to be the warmest place in the house). A couple of hours later it was kicking and cheeping, so I returned it to its family. Then there were five. The next day all the chicks figured out that they could escape through the wire mesh of their pen, and were all over the garden before I realized what had happened. I caught four; the other was hanging limply from Daisy’s guilty muzzle. We reinforced the pen. Wednesday morning I arrived with breakfast to find that one of the chicks had expired in a corner.
That did it. Having lost half the menu -- I mean, flock -- I decided to bring the chicks up to the house where I could keep a close eye on them. Nyoman made a big bamboo box and rigged a 5 watt light bulb to hang in one end. We lined the incubator with warm straw and soon the survivors were snugly nested under the lamp, sampling a tempting menu of worms and greens.
Walking out to the main road to buy some chick starter at the bird shop, I took a short cut through the temple. Tucked up close against a wall were two mangy little puppies that had been dumped there. It seemed to be a day for rescuing baby animals; I sat on the steps of the wantilan and called the BAWA Animal Ambulance (0361-981490). It was out on a call, so one of the staff came in a car. He picked up the pups gently. “Kintamani!” he pointed out gleefully. “And both males!” There wouldn’t be any problem finding good homes for them, once they’d been treated for mange, vaccinated and brought back to condition.
Later that night I drove home, parked my car and stepped out to find that someone had left five tiny kittens in my parking space. As luck would have it, I happened to have an incubator to warm them in while I called BAWA for the second time that day. The ducklings gathered around the newcomers to have a look before I tucked the kittens into a box of warm straw and went out to meet the ambulance that came to pick them up. It turned out that they were too young to suck properly, so we had to look for a wet nurse. Ubud is the kind of place where you can call around to find out if anyone has a lactating cat. No one seems to find this odd.
Here is where the story gets very dark. Wednesday, too, was the day a man picked up a knife and slashed my friend Lucy’s dog to ribbons. Poor Mentari managed to get home, where friends staunched the blood and called the BAWA ambulance. It must have been a hideous job sewing her back together again -- the stitching runs from under the front legs, twice across the belly and under the back legs. She’ll survive -– terribly scarred -- but justice will not be done. The man who did this to Mentari was a neighbour and was seen to attack her; however, Indonesia has no effective laws to protect animals. He will not be punished. Words cannot express the anger I feel about this. Please, if you care for animals at all, go to www.bawabali.com and sign the online petition for a strong animal protection law in this country. The petition will be presented to the Police General, the Government of Indonesia, the Governor of Bali and the Minister of Tourism. BAWA needs another 1500 signatures to meet its target.
I’m just one of a growing number of people who blesses BAWA (Bali Animal Welfare Association) for its 24 hour animal ambulance and clinic, its education programs in local schools, its neutering and adoption programs and other activities. I know of 8 creatures which passed through the BAWA vets’ gentle hands that Wednesday -– there are many, many more every day. Donations are urgently needed to help them continue the work; visit the website to see how you can help.
