Once upon a time there was a pond...

Once upon a time there was a pond...a small, barren, neglected pond. Then weed blew in and covered the surface of the water until there was nothing to be seen bar a green carpet.
Ducks and ducklings arrived.
Within a week, the weed had been eaten, the clear water dulled and polluted and the barren look returned. Yet the pond was not neglected. Oh no, Mama and her faithful four visited it several times a day; swam on it; dived into it; bathed in it. It had LOTS of attention.
The ducklings grew up. Mama left. The young grew wings, fledged and flew away.
The mucky water cleared and then, one day, the pond weed returned.

And multiplied.
And exploded!

Duck psychology

Mama duck took off and left a couple of weeks ago. She’d been going away on trips, getting the ducklings used to being alone and more independent. (They weren’t, of course. Still kept begging for bread and annoying the rabbit.) Still, they look like ducks now. Big. Fat. And, mostly, winged.  They are trying frantically to fly, propelling themselves out of the pond before collapsing beak first onto the grass.  Much flapping of wings but no lift-off – as yet.

Today, Mama returned – with 7 tiny ducklings. They look as if they’ve just crept out of their eggshells, tiny balls of fur stumbling around.

The original 4 are REALLY annoyed. The look of disdain on their faces said it all, so we thought, until Boss Duck (aka Apple) had a go at the ducklings. Mama didn’t react much, apart from poking her beak at Boss. No dramatics, fights or other tantrums.

I wish I understood duck psychology.

Now they’re all hunkered down within a few feet of each other:


4 adolescents, 1 adult, 7 miniature ducklings and 1 rabbit.  Sounds almost like the chorus of Tom Lehrer’s hunting song.

Ducks growing up

 The ducks are an endless source of amusement. They now mob us whenever we set foot outside the house. When inside, they lurk under windows, or tap on the glass of the conservatory door with their beaks.

These permanent residents needed names. Apple, orange, peach and plum. Yum.

Of ducks, rabbits and other dog substitutes...

Mama and baby - one of eleven, originally...

...growing bigger...

and then there were four...

....beginning to fledge...

...with friend...

...bunny kiss...

Endless Eastertime entertainment...

Mpira

It is just over a year since Mpira died. I still experience the shock - it was so sudden. I suppose it was this week - I don't remember the exact date, save that it was a Monday, although even that has no particular significance. Why remember the date of loss? Better to remember those many days of gain...of love, of affection, of enjoyment, of laughter.

Anyway, we are experiencing spring in a different way without him. Nearly three weeks ago, a mother duck arrived in the garden, eleven tiny ducklings in tow. The numbers quickly diminished - she would take them on a walk, coming back with one or two less each time (cats? crows? just lost? who knows?) - until a week later there were only four.

But those four have stayed. And grown. They are beginning to look like miniature ducks now.

And because Mpira is not here to harass them, I spend my days gazing out of the window, fascinated as they rush across the lawn, between bird feeder and pond. Tiny rabbits eat daisies, barely hopping aside as I go backwards and forwards to the washing line. Tits, greenfinches, robins, chaffinches and goldfinches cluster around the bird feeder, jostling, maneouvring, LIVING...

And flowers have exploded.