A tale of two ducks

‘We can’t just leave them here,’ the words tumbled from my mouth, Alan looking at me incredulously.

We’ve encountered a lot of wildfowl, ducks, swans, and birds as we have meandered alongside the muddy river our city forest park follows. And the one thing they all have in common is they keep a safe distance between themselves and us.

But not these ducks, they waddled in the opposite direction to the river, whilst a moorhen, terrified, ran into the undergrowth and back to the safety of the muddy water.

For a moment, I thought our springer would frighten the ducks, but no, the springer and ducks seemed to have no interest in each other. So on we went to finish our loop.

I was hoping the ducks wouldn’t be there when we got back. But no, they were. So, me being me, not being able to ignore an animal that may or may not be in trouble, I looked at Alan.

‘The ducks are ok,’ Alan was convincing. But they did not look wild, let alone like they belonged amongst the trees.

Tight chest and dilemmas followed; leave them there. Perhaps they were owned by someone? But who would let two ducks out to take themselves for a walk? Call someone, but whom? A quick Google search left me with more questions than answers. Worse still, maybe they were dumped? Someone wanted to have fresh duck eggs and then decided they didn’t like them.

Then I Googled again, what type of ducks are they? Having a phone and the image search tool finally provided a reason for its existence, for me anyway. It resulted in Khaki Campbell ducks, domestic, non-flying (not so good), but I reckoned as they waddled a lot and were extremely friendly. That part was pretty evident as one of them was duck billing at my leg with my springer sitting by the puddle of water, looking at them curiously.

That’s when the words at the start of this came tumbling out of my mouth. My imagination had the poor ducks eaten by foxes before I had taken two steps away from them.

If we got the cat boxes, we could come back, round up the ducks, and then find a sanctuary that could take them.

I was planning; I was going to save the ducks. The ducks needed to be saved.

Alan, Mr Practical, searching Facebook to see if there were any duck sanctuaries nearby, stumbled on a post; the ducks had been seen before!

Yep. A further scroll on the post revealed the ducks lived in a house next to the woods and often took themselves for a walk.

Wide-eyed and tight-lipped, I looked at Alan; he did everything possible to prevent himself from laughing.

I gave the ducks a little wave goodbye and turned to walk away.

Alan following behind, ‘well, lucky for Facebook.’

‘Yep.’

‘Duck kidnapping,’ tears of laughter streaming down his face, ‘probably not the best thing to do.’

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