Wow- almost six months without blogging! I could say that the reason is that this house-ownership rigmarole is the only thing I’ve had time for, but thinking about it maybe I just haven’t consciously put time aside for writing these posts. Which is a shame, because it’s probably one the most mindful things I do for myself; it’s cathartic, it helps me practice gratitude, it helps me dwell in these experiences a second, third and fourth time. But enough with the deep stuff. The longer I went without posting the higher the mental barrier was to come back, so I just want to take the plunge and write about whatever has made me happy recently. That’s how we’ve arrived at this post, which I have say is essentially just a collection of ducklings from the local village pond. Low in terms of rarity value, but hopefully you’ll agree that their fluff rating makes up for it.
For all their cuteness they live in a tough world full of cats and gulls, and I’ve been quite shocked at the rate of attrition. Since April there must have been over 10 different sets of ducklings (including some from a female that made her nest right in the middle the public footpath) which have definitely not translated into an equal number of awkward, half-feather half-down adolescents. But watching them rushing around the surface trying to catch insects has been a highlight of many an afternoon walk. Recently I had surgery, and my enduring memory of my first morning home is tentatively walking to the pond and having four of the ducklings waddle right up to me. I know it’s because people feed them but it probably had more of a healing effect than the paracetamol I’d just taken. I’m rooting for each and every one of them.
