Ducks by Frank W. Harvey (excerpts from to illustrate a point)

From troubles of the world I turn to ducks

Beautiful, comical things;

Sleeping or curled ,

Their heads beneath white wings,

By water cool or finding curious things to eat

In various mucks beneath the pool

Tails uppermost.

Aaah! how sweet, I hear you cry.  We love ducks.

And so do I in the right setting however, the tiny courtyard

garden at the back of the Lock-up most definately is not a good venue.

I had only popped out for a few minutes and upon my return was

greeted by two beaks and four beady eyes peering at me through

the convervatory window.  Quick, I thought, I must get a photo

of this before they fly off.

As it turns out there was really no need to hurry as 48 hours later

they're still with me and showing no signs of a pressing

engagement elsewhere either.

The blackbirds are truly pissed off with the ongoing state of affairs

as all bird feeding has been put on hold for the duration

and I'm convinced that the increased aerial bombardment of

my jam jar by the starlings is as a direct result of the embargo.

The interlopers did at one stage fly off and I heaved a huge, and as

it turned out premature, sigh of relief.  Dusk crept upon the land

like a velvet blanket and when I went to let down my bedroom blind

there they were settling down for the night beside my tiny pond.

When night has fallen you creep up to bed,

But drakes and dillies

Nest with pale water-stars,

Moon beams and shadow bars

And water-lilies.

Daybreak and they're still there!

The bastards were still there the next morning taking advantage of the

facilities having a bath and when I surreptitiously turned on the

fountain this only seemed to enhance their bathing pleasure.

WHAT TO DO?  I've spent considerable time, effort, not to mention

money on creating for myself a little oasis of calm and

tranquility and in the space of a short few hours it has been totally

"enmerded" (a rather apt expression I picked up in France) by a couple

of ducks.

The water-lilies have disappeared from view, the fountain has been

knocked sideways, my hand-picked, ornamental stones are covered

in nasty, sloshy poo, several plants are already badly damaged and

yet somehow Drake and Dilly have become (hopefully not

permanently) a feature in my chaotic life.  Well things had been

running suspiciously smoothly of late.

Time for a dip.

Back to the poem - skip to the end:

All God's jokes are good, even the practical ones!

And as for the duck, I think God must have smiled a bit

Seeing those bright eyes blink

On the day He fashioned it.

And He's probably laughing still 

At the sound that came out of it's bill.

All Things I

Am I laughing as I draw your attention to All Things I 

which is just a quick click away and extremely apt for

this situation don't you think?

jools@longdogsampler.com