April

1.4.04

Edna has vanished.

While I was writing to you last night John went out to shut the ducks in. As usual he first went to the garage to shut the trap door to the chicken coop, and then he noticed that the chicken wasn't in there. Well, really, that never happened before. As soon as it was twilight she would always go into the coop and settle down in one of the nest boxes.

John took the torch and looked in all the places where we knew she went, I did the same this morning, and this afternoon John made a big circuit through the ditch, along the hedge and even through the water meadows next door - Edna remains lost. We last saw her in the early afternoon when we returned from helping at the luncheon club. John had brought her a foil dish full of left-over vegetables and she was pecking at them. When we returned from shopping for plants a little later and didn't see her we thought nothing of it, as she was always roaming everywhere and had her favourite places under various shrubs.

We have no idea what could have happened. If a fox or a dog had killed her we would surely have seen some feathers, but there was nothing. And the ducks seem to be ok, although for some reason they didn't come to the pond by the house today, even though they spent a lot of time there recently. We just don't know, it's a mystery.

5.4.04

Yesterday I didn't get around to writing, but today I've made it. We've been thinking a lot about what could have happened to Edna, and John believes it is quite possible that magpies or a sparrow hawk could have finished her off, because she seemed quite slow and weak when we saw her in the early afternoon. I agree; I've seen with my own eyes how the other chickens were hacking at a sickly hen and nearly killed her. Also, when Carl and Val were collecting the girls yesterday and were taking a little stroll through the garden after lunch they found the only piece of evidence: a bundle of Edna's feathers still attached to a small, round piece of skin which was lying this side of the ditch near the duck hut. The piece of skin was only large enough to have been pecked out, not torn out as a fox or dog might have done. Still, a fox could have killed her before that .................... we just don't know.

Today I'm emailing what I've intended to send you for some time, something about how the ducks spend their days:

A little duck diary

A few days ago, while I was ironing, I was able to watch the activities of the ducks through the upstairs window, and I was amazed how busy they were. It went something like this:

John went down to the duck house, and as soon as he had pushed up the hatch door all four ducks tumbled out and immediately hopped and ran with much beating of their wings to the opposite side of the pond.

The next time I looked they were roaming through the garden to see what they could find to eat, and all of a sudden all four were swimming in their pond.

The next minute I saw them disappear into the ditch on the other side of the horse fence, reappearing shortly afterwards and running back to the pond in a great hurry - something must have frightened them. Then three of them watched Gertie having a swim, and when they were on the move again Rudolpho suddenly shot off to chase a pidgeon.

When I saw them next they came up 4-in-a-row in a phalanx, busily sieving through the grass. They do this quite a lot, and John always thinks they look like policemen doing an intricate search for clues at a crime or murder scene.

Rudolpho shot off again to chase a pidgeon. Then all four were swimming in their pond and spent some time fanning their wings and preening. After this Gertie and Rudolpho had a swim together, followed by a stroll through the vegetable beds as a foursome.

When I looked up again all four were right in front of the garage. I opened the window and called: "Don't you go and play on the road now, you hear!" So they all turned round and went to the pond by the house.

And that's how it went on, all morning. No wonder they were ever so tired by the time it was 11 o' clock!

6.4.04

So you think it is quite feasible that magpies or a sparrow hawk were to blame for Edna's fate, but you bet it's more likely to have been a fox. We'll never know for sure. Our neighbour Gladys told us that she had been aware of some commotion that afternoon in the area of the ditch. There had been a lot of noise, but she couldn't see anything from that distance.

I'm really pleased that I can share my duck experiences with you - you always react so well. A pleasure shared is twice the enjoyment I always think.

I hadn't been aware that I'd mentioned "rogering" so frequently. Meanwhile I hardly notice it, except when something out of the ordinary happens like yesterday when poor Pearl was nearly drowned (you often hear about this happening with frogs) as first Rudolpho mounted and then also Valentino. Or when, during Annie's visit with the girls, they started immediately and Charlotte asked: "What are they doing, Mummy?"

John just came in laughing from the garden. "I've had some fun watching them", he said. "Gertie dived right under, you could see her at the bottom swimming from one side of the pond to the other and then shooting out like an arrow. And then she dived again." I've been able to watch her doing that as well. She behaves almost like a penguin - well, they do call this type of duck penguin ducks, but they run a lot faster!

I'm often amazed how muscular and strong these slim ducks are, the way they easily slip out of a pond or a dip in the ditch they've fallen into in their hurry, quite without the aid of any hands! And now that they are spending a lot of time in the pond I can observe quite often how they rise up out of the water beating their wings, almost as if they are standing on the surface, and they appear to spew out a stream of water while doing this. I've seen the drakes like this especially, and I ask myself if they're showing off in a manner of saying: "Look how big I am - do you want me?"

Gertie appears to me the most daring and friendly. She often leads to troupe in the quest to find something new, and she's always the first running up to us when she sees us in the garden. Pearl is the smallest and the most shy. I reckon she still hasn't forgiven me for grabbing her first out of the hut and putting her down on the other side of the pond - all on her own without her mates, and she had to complain very noisily! But she gets more trusting with every weeding session[= bringing worms to the surface], and now fetches the odd bite straight off my fork or trowel.

The "boys" keep a bit to one side, it looks as if they don't need to eat as much as the egg-producing "girls". But after the initial stand-off they can't resist the lure of the worms and I often see Valentino come up between my gardening shoes/boots. Rudolpho, if he's not lying there half asleep, will put his head to one side and I'm sure he's smiling at me. I just have to give him something to eat then!

You can tell that 'Spring has sprung'. The last few days I've often seen the "boys" fighting each other. Not like before with threatening motions and chasing, no, more like a proper duelling with their beaks crossing - I'm reminded of stags engaging with their horns. And a few weeks ago I believed that Rudolpho and Gertie who both have a black "bean" at the tip of their beaks were a "couple", as were the other two. I can't say that now!!

I'm often amused when I see them scratching behind their ears (ears??). How can they do it with their webbed feet? But they do have toenails similar to the hens'. And they are clever, these little animals. How on earth did they learn to swim and dive when all they had at their first home was just a runnel of water no deeper than 30cm. And who told them that the most slugs and worms were to be found at the edges of garden beds?