Daddy Duck

A few weeks ago, a duck with seemingly limited parenting skills decided to make her nest in the central island of the ornamental ponds at the front of the building where Peter and I work. These ponds look pretty but aren't really designed to house wildlife. The problem is that they have a metal lip running round the edge which seem almost custom-built to prevent anything with little legs hopping in and out.

Peter spotted the nest when maintaining the ponds and decided to solve this problem by building a duck-friendly ramp leading down to the water. All he then had to do was sit tight and wait for the eggs to hatch.

Sure enough, a week ago the pond was suddenly filled with quacking. Ten little eggs had become ten little fluffy ducklings. All was going very well until mummy duck decided that it was time to leave their temporary home to go in search of food. The ramps were too slippery for the ducklings' little feet and no matter how high they tried to jump they couldn't get out.

The next day two of the strongest ducklings had managed to jump out but were then stranded outside waiting for the others to acquire the same skill. They were running all over the place and whenever they spotted a pair of human feet getting close they would panic. One even miraculously survived a dash across the taxi lane and a ten foot drop into the Ikea carpark, to be carefully scooped up by Peter and returned to its mother.

Peter then scrapped the ramps and built steps leading to the outside world, but the ducklings obviously had adopted their mother's low IQ and would run round and round the steps rather than up and down them.

All worked out well in the end though. Over the weekend the ducks had obviously worked out the whole step/ramp/jump thing and on monday morning Peter found them proudly swimming up and down the nearby canal with both parents. He was relieved (and perhaps just a little bit sad) to move on from his temporary position of daddy duck.