They had just constructed their perfect hideaway. A nest just beyond the park, on the other side of the road, tucked away in amongst the daffodils that flail in the wind under the strong boughs of the giant beech trees. But, just as he, her handsome drake, crossed the road, his head full of how good life was beginning to look, a car came and struck him dead!
As I jogged by I saw his shattered body and blooded feathers glint in the morning sun as thick blood oozed from his wounds. His eyes now closed for ever. My heart stopped and a surge of grief took hold as I watched her – his duck- stand dazed beside his corpse. Her webs paddled on the spot. She wandered round in a circle refusing to move from his side as passing cars honked at her. She just did not understand. There are no words for ’traffic’ or ‘road’ in the quacks and cries of their language. There was nothing for it but to pick her up and take her to the park. She might make her way back to the nest in the daffodils or maybe there is time for her to find a new handsome drake and start again. I hope so.
