To live in the country is to have a random assortment of wildlife as pets.

We’ve had lizards, turtles, frogs, tadpoles, fish, snakes — if it crawls, swims or flies, we’ve probably taken it in as a pet, at least for a couple days. Often we’ve done so against my wife’s wishes. Some we have loved more than others, but they all hold a special place in our hearts.

We usually let them go after a few days in the name of letting living things stay that way. But those brief encounters with God’s creatures have made my children more observant of the world around them. It’s a shame that more children aren’t exposed to nature as often as mine are.

Our most recent pet — I use that term loosely — is a female mallard. She landed on a pond on our property a couple months ago. Our first encounter with the duck we’ve since named Penny was not pleasant. She honked and buzzed past us as we fished from a small aluminum boat. She obviously felt we were intruding on her pond. We assumed she had a nest and eggs somewhere, so we left her alone. Also, the kids were scared of her.

Curiosity got the better of her and she eventually began swimming close to the bank if we were at the pond. She finally got close enough that the kids could toss her a piece of bread and she became our constant companion at the pond.

If we walked to the back yard, Penny came waddling up the hill to greet us. On a couple mornings, I found her on the back porch, waiting to be fed. She became as much a pet as a duck could be.

The children were certain she hung around because she enjoyed the companionship. I knew she was there because we tossed her bread. But it was a mutually beneficial relationship that we assumed would last.

But a couple weeks ago Penny started hanging around less and less. She no longer waddled up the hill to the house in the evenings. She would still eat all the bread we could throw her way, but we had to go to her, she no longer came to us. Penny was playing hard-to-get.

And we soon found out why. Not long after we made friends with Penny, a Canada goose landed on the pond. Penny and the goose were not fast friends. Penny treated the goose the same way she treated us a couple months ago. There was much honking and dive-bombing in an effort to scare the larger bird off.

But the goose didn’t budge. Slowly, the two started swimming closer to each other and this past week, they started swimming together, Penny always in the lead.

We haven’t seen Penny without the goose since. They walk to the front yard together. They waddle down the driveway together. They even took a stroll alongside Mt. Zion Road together. They are inseparable and it sickens me.

I suppose Penny doesn’t need us any longer. And I guess it’s for the best that Penny has a fowl friend. But it hurt a bit when Penny chose the goose over us. Come on, a Canada goose, really? What does she have that we don’t, besides feathers and a beak?

We refuse to name the goose, largely out of spite. I know, I know — we’re not losing a duck, we’re gaining a goose. But it sure feels like we’ve lost a duck. And to make matters worse, Penny is always around (with the goose of course) but never really there. She ignores us when we approach her now.

It’s as if the past few weeks didn’t even happen. Does she not remember all the good times? Are those memories not enough? Is our bread not soft enough?

I know the answers, even if I can’t bring myself to admit it.

Luke Horton is the publisher of The Daily Leader.