Saturday 16 May 2009

THE BEGINNING !!

Let me tell you who we are. You already know that I'm 54, fat, frumpy and a grouch. My husband, Peter, is 69 in 2 months time, a grouch and thin. We have a gorgeous Springer Spaniel called Bonnie and she was 8 in April going on 6 months! We have children between us but they long ago flew the nest.

We live in a bungalow with a large park like garden and have ducks that visit our pond each summer. The garden has palm trees, magnolia, mock orange blossom and lots and lots of weeds. I like the weeds as they are actually very pretty. It's just a shame some of them are growing through the paving slabs on the back terrace. My ducks come each year in March and stay until the end of July. When we first moved into the house we had 10 ducklings with mummy and daddy.

They nearly got killed on the road going back to their big pond and so we brought them back here and here they stayed. Now, for those of you who don't know ducks' habits, I shall tell you what they do. In the breeding season they leave their big ponds and find quiet homes such as ours to do their mating in and produce their babies. Once the babies are a few hours old, they are marched down the roads and across them to where the parents' usually live. In theory!!!!!

In 2000 that went wrong. Mummy took them on the road and no cars would stop. Now THIS is where you get to see how mad I am. I stepped in front of the traffic to make it stop! This is a very busy main road that travels the seafront from one town to another and I just walked casually into it. They stopped for me alright - they probably saw huge lawsuits ahead if they didn't. I ushered the ducklings, with mummy quacking frantically, over the road and into someone's garage.

My gardener had followed me to help and he picked up Daisy (as I named her) and I got the 10 ducklings into a box and carried them all home. Phew. My heart was racing so I don't know how that poor mother must have felt. Anyway, she stayed with them and Daddy, (now very originally called Donald) stayed too. I telephoned Mole Valley Farmers and ordered sacks of chick feed and mixed corn and for the next 6 weeks, I fed them and helped Daisy to keep them safe and strong. Oh the antics.

It was hilarious at times but those blasted shite hawks (seagulls)kept trying to catch the babies and eat them. I got up at 4 am each morning and never left the pond until after nightfall each day for the whole period. I was armed with a long fishing net which I swirled around my head each time the gulls swooped whilst calling them all manner of names. I was often seen wearing pyjamas, bed socks with my husband's slipper's, a fleece over the pyjamas and a dressing gown over that. What a sight I was. Sometimes an umbrella would be added to the list on the days it poured with rain and this would come in handy as an extra weapon to swirl around when the shitehawks came calling.

We had a party in the middle of all of this for my husband's 60th birthday and the babies were the star attraction. We used to have fish in the pond but I had to have them rescued as an emergency after that night. I heard a commotion with all of the ducks quacking at once and Daisy giving her "telling them off" quack. I went out to find everyone gathered around the pond area laughing as one of the babies had discovered the fish. Oh my God, it was running around the pond with a flapping fish in its mouth and all of the other babies following it quacking like mad. They thought it was a great game, the poor fish didn't and I was running around behind the whole lot clapping my hands and saying " You naughty baby. Put that poor fish down". We made an amazing spectacle around the pond but all the fish were rescued and next day sent to new homes.

Although our garden is rather secluded, word spread and we used to get people coming and peering over the gate trying to see them all. I only got a break for tea, meals or the loo when someone arrived to relieve me. The postman did a good job each day and waited while I dressed and made tea ( for us both) and got a bite to eat. Then lunchtime when hubbie got home and not again until teatime. Hard work but great fun.

Daisy was a brilliant mother and Donald very protective of her. Thanks to me interfering poor Daisy had 10 babies to rear instead of the usual 2-3 that normally survive which gave her so much extra work. I did help wherever I could and they all survived. We never lost one duckling and we took them to a trio of very large ponds when they were older and safe where they could establish themselves to start their lives.

Dear Daisy and Donald died last year and are buried by my pond. One of her babies has taken up their post and is spending the summer here with his mate as I speak. I know it's one of my babies as he is so tame and knows exactly which door to come to asking for food if I'm late putting it out and all the other things that we did. A couple of others still visit and are very tame with me and the dog. Everyone else makes them nervous though.

Well, that's a bit about my household and how weird it can be. I hope you've enjoyed that little insight. Sometime I may tell you how normal I can be as well. That will have given you a little feel of getting to know me and what you're letting yourself in for if you follow this blog. It is nowhere nearly as interesting or as mad as that though so don't get your hopes up. I'm off now for a Devonshire cream tea. Cup of tea, 2 scones, jam and clotted cream. Haven't had one since last summer. Hubbie's got the tea ready so off I go to get his scones out. Bye for now,

Lorraine.

P.S. Just read this back to check it and realised that the last sentence sounds frightfully rude if taken the wrong way. Oh dear, so what - he should be so lucky!!!