At about half past six yesterday evening I was standing under the awning outside Stockport Sainsbury’s, thinking about nothing in particular, just glumly sheltering from yet another sharp shower.
A flurry on the other side of the car park – I was not alone. He stood unmoving, sheltering under the trees in a raised bed.
Surely, it couldn’t be … but really, it does look like a duck, cannot think of another bird with that kind of head on that kind of neck.
After a bit he moved, lost to my angle of view; I shifted sideways to see if he was still there. Yes he was, but was that really a second duck head I could see lower down? When the rain stopped I just had to go across to investigate.
The male duck stood there, stock still, on guard, eyes darting, keeping sentinel.
To his left, lady duck nestled on the earth, eyes drooping, looking broody.
Our stream at home runs through the garden of a neighbour further up the lane. Last year a duck laid her eggs in one of their raised beds. As the ducklings grew, my neighbour wondered how they were going to get back to the water – should she do something to help provide transport?
Leave it to Mother Nature, trust a mother’s instincts. When the time came mother duck pushed her babies, quite unceremoniously, off the edge of the bed & on to the path below. They then processed to the stream & swam away.
But I shall have to go back to the same shop tonight to see if there has been a happy event under those trees.
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