|With friend...previously, Mama Duck would chase him away. One time he fell in the pond...|
|Beginning to fledge...|
The ducks are becoming more amusing by the day. They demand food, rushing up whenever we appear - whether outside or even near a window. They dog - or is that 'duck' - my very footsteps, following so closely at my heels that I dare not make any impulsive movement lest I tread on them. Like the baby birds they are, they start screaming for feed, imperatively demanding: cheeping and chirruping, apart from one, the largest, whose plumage is beginning to darken and change colour - along with his voice. It must be somewhat disconcerting to discover that your cheep now resembles a quack.
So the four musketeers spend their days huddled in a group, or rushing across the lawn, or in frantic activity in the pond: ducking and diving, or skeetering across the surface as they chase insects.
They spend their days making me smile.