Thank God ducklings grow up quickly! Little darlings, my clutch (that think they’re called 2-4-6-8-phew!) monopolised life for three weeks. How with sunshine outside could I keep them cooped in, when an exploratory ten minutes showed they were dying to race with each other across the lawn, dibby their beaks between grass shoots, rummage under shrubs, and splash about delightedly in two inches of water? (no deeper, they are not waterproofed without the mother duck’s oils). And how at night could I keep them warm and safe if they didn’t come into the house? With ravens and buzzards circling above by day, and the threat of predation by rats at night, it was either their box (1msq) or a close eye – every five minutes! Anyone feeling broody? They’re a sure three week cure.
However now, remarkably grown, and producing their own oils, they have moved up to the veg garden, in the company of the scarecrow, at whose feet they often sleep, reassured by a human outline. The wildlife pond is the star attraction, almost like a swimming soup as duckweed covers the surface. Sticking together like glue, they peep with distress if separated from their siblings, and should the dogs bark or I call the alarm, they run as one body to whichever is closest, my feet or the safety of the water.
No comments:
Post a Comment