After a day of rain showers, the sun comes out just in time for my walk home. Handing over to my colleague for the night, I leave the shop saying I am going up to the loch with a beer and a few snacks. The thick layer of green moss which has been clinging to the tree stems all winter has started to recede. It has been replaced by what at times seems like fifty shades of green. The most eye catching of these is the vivid, fresh colour of the new beech tree leaves. As we walk up the path, the colours enhanced by the soft light of the sun make you feel like you are in a giant cathedral – it is akin to a religious experience.
Down at the loch side the water is still. Over the far side the herons can be heard occasionally squawking loudly. They have once again built their nests out of sight so we have to content ourselves with watching them fly back to the hidden nests bringing supplies of food for their chicks. The late afternoon sun warms us as we drink our beers. All of a sudden a female Mallard duck appears from the left. In her wake can be seen a number of what look like newly hatched ducklings. The male duck follows at a distance with the air of the proud father about him. A quick head count reveals eight. One of them seems to prefer its own company and swims at a distance from the rest of the family. When it eventually re-joins the group it is roundly castigated by the mother.
Ducks in a row
Twice during the week I include the loch side in my runs but the duck family are nowhere to be seen. Exactly a week later the weather and work commitments allow us once more to go up to “The Heronry” for a pint. We go prepared with binoculars and a slice of our finest seeded homemade bread. However, there is a deathly silence surrounding the loch, even the herons are quiet. There is not a bird to be seen. We begin to fret about what could have happened to the ducklings. Feeling relaxed after half a bottle of beer has been consumed, we attempt to lure the duck family from where ever they may be hiding. I whistle like a song bird while Eunice attempts a sound more gooselike than duck. Never the less it works – a female duck appears but our hearts sink as there are no ducklings in sight. At last one appears quickly followed by six others – there is only one missing; probably the adventurous loner. Their mother greedily gets her beak to almost every morsel of bread we throw into the water; her brood content to swim about around her. We walk home through the green cathedral happy.
Two days later we arrive at the loch to find a very small bicycle leant up against the pub bench. A small girl and her father are at the waters edge throwing bread out to the ducks. There are a few male ducks snapping at each other in their usual bad tempered way along with two females – one appears to be paired with one of the males as they swim close together. There is no sign of any babies but the solitary female seems distracted and keeps swimming in small circles. How does a bereaved duck behave? We have no idea but I find it hard to believe that in the space of two days all seven ducklings have been killed. The girl gets too close to the water and her wellington boots slip on one of the many roots. She falls and lands on all fours in the shallow water. Immediately she tells her father that it was because she was too close to the edge – he agrees and they both conclude that her mother will not be best pleased with the mud she now has on her clothes. She declares that she will now not be able to ride her bike home – this does not auger well for her future in the world of mountain biking. Embrace the idea of falling and being covered in mud would have been my advice to her. The father picks up her bike and they set off home.
The sky darkens and rain starts to fall. We stay seated as there is a large patch of blue sky following the rain. A group of birds start making their way towards us – it is the Greylag Geese which were last seen a month ago and I had thought had just been using the loch as a stopping off place as they migrated north. They have produced four young ones and swim up close – the male hissing at any ducks which get too close.
Staying put
A dog walker and her two dogs arrive and asks if there are any ducklings. We say that they are probably dead but point out the geese to her. She says it is three years since there have been any geese on the loch. A couple and their dog arrive. Two of the dogs go for a swim and we are subjected to a shower of water as they shake the loch from their bodies. They all leave and the sun comes out. Thinking of going home we are surprised to suddenly see the duck family come into view – all seven are present and correct.
All present and correct
We linger awhile watching them clambering over the rocks and diving in the water for food. At this time of year a pub at the pint is proving a little stressful; especially now there are four young geese to account for as well.
Granite Heart 