Well, I've been waiting for them. Every spring they arrive like clockwork. They slide back in as if they never left. Nothing much has changed from the previous year. I spot them from my kitchen window as they nuzzle and float effortlessly on the water. They think they have found just the right place to raise a family and it saddens me a little knowing I will have to advise them otherwise...in due course. For a few days, I will let them believe it.
Daffy and Daisy Duck (my name for them - so original), made their first appearance of the season in the pond that is our pool cover this morning. Although I know they are coming, it always surprises me the first day. I guess ducks aren't really all that intelligent. If they were they would realize that the little oasis they think they have found is not a pond in a field, it's just an oversized puddle filled with decaying leaves and still water that will completely disappear around the first week of May, just as their little ones need a swimming lesson.
The first year we lived here, we thought it was cute and let them stay. Eventually, we found their nest with several eggs under some dead hosta leaves in the garden. We let nature take its course. Unfortunately, nature, as you know can be cruel. One morning as I was passing by the nest, I noticed the eggs had been crushed, the contents likely slurped up by some hungry raccoon in the night. I felt as heart-broken as Daisy. She was flapping about in the pool, obviously distraught and Daffy kept circling around in the air quacking out his grief for what seemed an eternity. I cursed mother nature.
After that heart-wrenching scenario, my husband said we could no longer allow them to make our house, their home. They needed to find another more accommodating locale to raise their family. It amazes me that they still try us on every year, despite their tragic loss 11 years ago. Maybe ducks have no memory. Or, maybe they do. Maybe they only remember the good things and forget the bad.
In the meantime, I'll let them visit for a few days, but then I will start my daily ritual of shooing them away. It was easier when we had a dog. He would love that job. Me, not so much. I like having them around as I start the spring clean-up in the garden. I talk to them as I rake and prune and cut back the perennials. They don't seem to mind me. They will likely be confused on the day I start to frantically start waving my arms about like a madwoman telling them to scram.
Come to think of it, maybe that's why they come back - for the show. "Hey Daisy, let's go watch that crazy freaky human do her whacked-out spring dance," says Daffy. Daisy just loves a good laugh, so she agrees. It's like a little aphrodisiac to her as they fly off to do their own crazy mating dance in a safer ducky den. "Come back and see me next year", I cry out as they depart.
They'll be back next year - I must weally quack them up!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Birds do it.....c'mon sing along!
Well, I've been waiting for them. Every spring they arrive like clockwork. They slide back in as if they never left. Nothing much has changed from the previous year. I spot them from my kitchen window as they nuzzle and float effortlessly on the water. They think they have found just the right place to raise a family and it saddens me a little knowing I will have to advise them otherwise...in due course. For a few days, I will let them believe it.
Daffy and Daisy Duck (my name for them - so original), made their first appearance of the season in the pond that is our pool cover this morning. Although I know they are coming, it always surprises me the first day. I guess ducks aren't really all that intelligent. If they were they would realize that the little oasis they think they have found is not a pond in a field, it's just an oversized puddle filled with decaying leaves and still water that will completely disappear around the first week of May, just as their little ones need a swimming lesson.
The first year we lived here, we thought it was cute and let them stay. Eventually, we found their nest with several eggs under some dead hosta leaves in the garden. We let nature take its course. Unfortunately, nature, as you know can be cruel. One morning as I was passing by the nest, I noticed the eggs had been crushed, the contents likely slurped up by some hungry raccoon in the night. I felt as heart-broken as Daisy. She was flapping about in the pool, obviously distraught and Daffy kept circling around in the air quacking out his grief for what seemed an eternity. I cursed mother nature.
After that heart-wrenching scenario, my husband said we could no longer allow them to make our house, their home. They needed to find another more accommodating locale to raise their family. It amazes me that they still try us on every year, despite their tragic loss 11 years ago. Maybe ducks have no memory. Or, maybe they do. Maybe they only remember the good things and forget the bad.
In the meantime, I'll let them visit for a few days, but then I will start my daily ritual of shooing them away. It was easier when we had a dog. He would love that job. Me, not so much. I like having them around as I start the spring clean-up in the garden. I talk to them as I rake and prune and cut back the perennials. They don't seem to mind me. They will likely be confused on the day I start to frantically start waving my arms about like a madwoman telling them to scram.
Come to think of it, maybe that's why they come back - for the show. "Hey Daisy, let's go watch that crazy freaky human do her whacked-out spring dance," says Daffy. Daisy just loves a good laugh, so she agrees. It's like a little aphrodisiac to her as they fly off to do their own crazy mating dance in a safer ducky den. "Come back and see me next year", I cry out as they depart.
They'll be back next year - I must weally quack them up!
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1 comment:
Anthropomorphism is great.... I wonder if ducks have the reverse (whatever it's called) and they think us humans have, I dunno, "funny feathers but only on our head"
L
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