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Pool time: First swim for ducklings
There is a first time for everything, so it’s nice to have mummy duck show you how it is done. Needless to say, they take to water like….. ducks!
This Indian Runner Duck, brooding and bringing up babies for the first time appears to be a very good mother – careful, attentive, protective, and teaches them what to do, how to do it. They are roaming happily around the place with her, finding food, eating, drinking etc. This first swim for ducklings scenario is enthusing the whole family, warming our hearts.
Welcoming baby life to your land makes you appreciative of life and the great wonders of the earth. After 28 days of being on the eggs patiently, under our careful watch, we are all rewarded.
And yes, they are CUTE! See also other animal posts.
Though when mama shows how to wash yourself, it all get’s a little much in such a tiny pool, so best to get out of there and watch from a distance:
Indian Runner Ducks in Permaculture: Allies in the Cultiwilding Living Lab: Additional info to First swim for ducklings
In the soft, undulating landscape of East and South Jutland, where glacial soils range from sandy hilltops to peat-rich lowlands, the Indian Runner Duck waddles—upright, alert, and perpetually curious. These unusual ducks, which resemble small feathery bowling pins on legs, have been emerging as charismatic co-workers in regenerative farming systems, and their utility within permaculture design is as practical as it is delightful.
Within the Cultiwilding Living Lab in Denmark—a visionary project reconnecting cultivation with wild processes—Indian Runner Ducks illustrate a living bridge between domesticity and ecosystem health. Cultiwilding (cultiwilding.dk) is not just a method; it’s an experimental ecosystem where plants, animals, fungi, and humans co-create landscapes that are productive, wild, and beautiful. Indian Runners, with their lively social nature and ecological function, embody this philosophy.
Slug Hunters and Soil Protectors – here lounging in the hot, sunny mid-afternoon under the old apple trees
The most celebrated role of Indian Runner Ducks is their legendary appetite for slugs and slug eggs. In temperate, moist climates like Denmark’s, especially on silty soils near stream valleys or shaded forest edges, slugs can devastate young plants and seedlings. Runner Ducks offer an elegant, non-toxic solution. Unlike chickens, they don’t scratch the soil or uproot plants; instead, they weave between rows, heads bobbing, snatching slugs with surgical precision.
This isn’t mere anecdote. Studies on integrated pest management show that ducks can significantly reduce gastropod populations in both traditional and organic gardens. Their slug-hunting is most effective when they are rotated through garden beds before seedling emergence, or in orchards and perennial systems where their light feet do little damage.
Beyond pest control, ducks contribute to the fertility loop. Their nitrogen-rich manure becomes a key ingredient in deep bedding systems—where straw, leaves, and duck droppings mix to create compost teeming with fungal life. In permaculture systems, this deep bedding can later be used to mulch vegetable beds, feed compost piles, or inoculate forest garden soils.
Eggs, Not Just for Breakfast
Indian Runners are prolific layers, producing up to 250 eggs per year. Their eggs are slightly richer than chicken eggs, with thicker shells and a longer shelf life when unwashed. For small-scale, diversified farms or family homesteads, this consistent egg supply adds food security and a tradeable surplus. In a fair-share economy, these eggs can be bartered or gifted, becoming both nutrient currency and social glue.
Within the Cultiwilding model, food is not just fuel—it is the fruit of co-creation. Eggs from well-treated ducks, who forage in guild-planted orchards and nap under alder and willow, are materially and ethically different from their industrial counterparts. They’re also embedded in culture.
From Rice Fields to Northern Commons
The Indian Runner’s upright gait hints at its ancient Asian heritage. Bred for thousands of years in Southeast Asia, particularly in Indonesia, these ducks were traditionally herded into flooded rice paddies at dawn, guided by sticks and dogs, and brought home at dusk. In Bali and Java, ducks were an integral part of the rice-fish-duck polyculture system, which predates Western ideas of agroecology.
This practice resonates with the permaculture principle of stacking functions. Ducks fertilized the paddies, ate pests, and produced eggs—contributing to a zero-waste, resilient food web. In Cultiwilding landscapes, ducks can serve similar functions—roaming edible forest gardens, cleaning vineyard rows, or foraging among coppiced hazel groves.
And there’s an older European story too. In medieval Denmark, and throughout the North Sea basin, wild and semi-domestic ducks were common on commons and wet meadows. Peat diggers, monks, and free farmers all harvested duck eggs, meat, and feathers. Mythically, ducks were considered messengers between the watery underworld and the waking land. Norse folklore often portrays ducks as symbols of both transformation and resilience—apt metaphors for permaculture practice.
Companions in Observation and Co-Creation
Ducks teach patience and presence. In a permaculture context, this is no small thing. Observation is a core tenet—seeing how water flows, how plants grow, how animals behave—and ducks draw our eyes to subtle shifts: a new patch of moss, a hidden ponding of water, an emerging predator. Their coordinated movements—shaped by group decision-making and micro-communication—remind us that landscapes, too, are social systems.
They are not pets in the conventional sense, but they are companions. Watching ducks flock and forage creates a shared rhythm in the landscape. They become familiar characters in the seasonal story—a reminder that permaculture isn’t just about yield; it’s about relationship.
The team-building nature of ducks also offers a model for human systems. They thrive in groups, each individual alert yet reliant on the collective. Their structure isn’t rigid, but fluid—hierarchies emerge and dissolve based on context. In Cultiwilding, which seeks not to dominate wildness but to collaborate with it, these animal social systems offer lessons for our own cooperation.
In the Lab, In the Field
The Cultiwilding Living Lab is fertile ground for testing how domesticated species can participate in rewilding processes. Runner Ducks challenge the idea that wildness and cultivation must be separate. When integrated with rotating paddocks, polyculture planting, and wetland edge design, these ducks can help shape a dynamic, semi-wild ecology.
Their presence also bridges pedagogical divides. Children and visitors relate easily to ducks. They ask questions, follow the flock, and wonder aloud—sparking a kind of participatory science. In this way, Indian Runners help cultivate not just soil, but ecological literacy.
Conclusion: Feathered Threads in a Living Tapestry
Indian Runner Ducks aren’t a silver bullet, but they are a golden thread—one that ties together soil fertility, pest management, protein production, cultural continuity, and joy. In the hands of a thoughtful designer or within the collective of a living lab like Cultiwilding, these upright waddlers become more than livestock. They are collaborators.
Their mythic heritage, ecological usefulness, and social intelligence make them ideal inhabitants of the edge—between wild and cultivated, past and future. And on a misty morning in Jutland, watching a line of ducks disappear into the fog, it’s easy to imagine they’re not just following slugs, but leading us toward a different kind of agriculture—humble, integrated, and alive.
First swim for ducklings were brought to you by the cultiwilding living and dying lab