Just like my own offspring, the ducklings were late arrivals. And they’ve also now flown the nest. Or waddled, rather. Having calculated, with the help of my RSPB guide, that their hatching date should be 3rd May, we were relieved to return on the 1st from a week in Yorkshire to find that all was still well. We were none the wiser as to what would happen once the bundles of fluff broke free into the big wide world – otherwise known as our secluded back garden with no water flowing through it or easy exit route – but all advice seemed to point towards letting nature take its course.
D-Day came and went with no change in mother duck’s behaviour, which consisted of interminable hours sitting in her hideaway amongst the now more luxurious euphorbia. Perennial geraniums carpeted the edges and she was so well hidden that the best view was from an upstairs window. With the onset of some welcome warm weather it was a pleasure to throw this open first thing in the morning and take frequent glimpses without spooking the expectant mum.Continue Reading