Beware the low-flying duck

On returning to The Chookery one evening this week, Her Maj and I found a brood of eight ducklings caught inside the goose pen with their mother making anxious (nay, frantic) noises the other side of the wire. The ducklings were about three weeks old and a brood raised in Eddie’s garden – they had come along the river bank and in through the broken-down fence at the bottom of the paddock. Her Maj and I leapt to the rescue and went in to collect up handfuls of the ducklings to return to the safe maternal custody. All was going well with this enterprise when PTC bent down to pick up a few more inside the wire when the duck decided that her babies had had enough of human company and hurled herself at the wire; I was very glad that the wire was in the way because she came in at a rate of knots and smacked into the fence. It rather put me in mind of the Monty Python record (rememeber records, children?) which is introduced with the sound of Alastair Cook being attacked by a duck …


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