It is nearly five weeks since the ducklings hatched. They are now taller than Louisa and Pablo, their foster parents, and almost as big as the other runner ducks. They are almost fully feathered and some of their voices are changing from baby peepings to attempts at proper grown-up duck speak. I find I have mixed emotions when I see them growing up: excitement that they are all doing so well, wonder at the miracle of new life and development, relief that none seem to have any health issues and eager anticipation of letting them integrate with the others. On the other hand, I am sorry I have missed so much of their babyhood this year, disgusted by the number of flies their multiple paddling pools attract and on tenterhooks regarding how many of which sex we have.

From this …

It is a sad fact of life that we cannot keep any more drakes. Natural attrition and the crock pot have left us with our original two, Ducky McDuckface and Pablo Mallard and Titch McDuckface from last year’s brood. Dee and Beaky have grown up to be very attractive young ladies, like their mother and have been laying pretty blue/green eggs for months. Sadly, now the hotter weather is coming, they are laying fewer and fewer eggs, but they have more than earned their keep for the year already.

I am hoping against hope that this year’s ducklings are more females than males. The statistical evidence suggests a fifty:fifty split is very likely and last year that was exactly what we had.

Although the drakes look very similar to the ducks for much of the year, the drake feather on the tail is a clear giveaway. They might not develop the lovely iridescent green head feathers until next spring, but the males never learn to quack properly, so we shall be confident we know who is what within the next couple of months.

This morning, we decided to make a start on introducing the ducklings to the rest of the flock. Once they are happy mixing, we can dispense with some of the water dishes and let everyone play in the bath. This should make Duckville less of a swamp and help us reduce the smell and the number of flies down there. We are also awaiting the arrival of some Peking ducks (the type that look like our dear departed Dick van Duck ) and would like to have the Indian Runners settled and happy before the big girls arrive.

… to this in five weeks

I donned my tatty duck-wrangling clothes and big sombrero, gripped my pistachio green crutches and started carefully making my way down to the garden. Halfway down the ramp, I was greeted by our neighbour, Lola. Lola is the widow of Diego, of whom I became very fond. We have been slowly getting to know each other since he died. She often passes a bucket of lemons and oranges over the gate, apparently not realising that we have quite a few of our own.

‘Pera!‘ she called. ‘Hang on! I have some fruit for you!’ She bustled over, fending off Casper and Teddy, who were desperate to make a fuss of her. Fortunately, she is not at all intimidated by our two big lollopy boys. Her arms were full of apricots and plums. I propped my crutches against the gate and took my hat off.

‘Oh yes, good idea! I’ll put them in your sombrero.’

It’s a good job I have a big head! Once she had emptied her arms into the hat, she started emptying her pockets too. I soon had a fantastic stash of blushing apricots and cherry red plums in my make-shift fruit bowl.

Gracias, Lola!

We blew kisses at each other and she wished us a long life of happiness in Spain. Geoff took the hat full of fruit back to the kitchen and I continued on my way, stately as a very slow, slightly becalmed galleon.

Duckville is swarming with flies. The ground is black with stagnant feed and poop-filled water and the various bowls and dishes of water have been duckified. This process involves transferring feed into the water, paddling in it, tramping about and pooping copiously. Within moments of filling the bowls with fresh clean water, it looks just as bad again. Those of you who were here when Dick lived with us will be familiar with the dirty habits of ducks. They are endearing, funny, beautiful, quirky, and joyously mucky creatures. When you have ten babies adding to the mayhem, it can become somewhat smelly and very attractive to flies. This is one of the reasons we want to integrate the ducklings into the flock and revert to the manageable, one bath, empty-it-onto-the-land -and-don’t-have-it-stinking-the-place-out scenario.

Geoff brought me a plastic garden chair so I could sit and monitor the situation when the gate into the ducklings’ pen was left open. I put my hat back on and waited to see what would happen.

Priti was sitting on the ramp up to the bath, beak open and panting gently. Titch had found a spot in the shade of the orange tree and sat with one big foot extended behind him. I assume that spreading the webbing acts as some sort of heat sink on hot days. Dee and Ducky pecked half-heartedly at some weeds. Nobody was taking any notice of the babies.

The grown-ups were sitting in the shade.

Meanwhile, the babies waddled about in their little area, paddled in their saucers and sipped not very delicately from the big blue bowl. Pablo and Louisa watched on, sitting happily in a shallow puddle of evil-smelling water. All was very quiet on the Western Front, possibly because the babies had not tried encroaching.

I tried to take a few photographs, but being unable to move about hampered my style. The flies would not leave me alone. I decided to quit while I was behind and made my way back up to the house. World War III did not seem to be in the offing, so after a consultation, we decided to leave them to sort themselves out.

The babies paddled about in their swamp.

Geoff has been down a couple of times since to check on things. He reports minor skirmishes and one or two ducklings forgetting where the gate is, but other than that, all seems to be well.

The Three Peking Amigos might be arriving sooner than I had thought!

The three amigos. If all goes according to plan, you will hear more about them soon