Wood Ducks, Patience and Working at Heights

pp w duck 1

The local Wood Ducks are seeking higher ground. It’s going to be a sore point this year. Our chimneys are gone.

The ducks loved our chimneys. They would stand atop them and croon and quack and carry on with one another. Have little discussions about the inclement weather and how they might go about finding a suitable nesting site for the season.

But with the renovation came the removal of the chimneys. Initially only one was to go, but the chimney in the living room was falling apart and dragging that side of the house with it. So we made the decision to have it removed also and work out some other heating arrangement later, after we’d lived in the house for a bit. After all, it was now insulated properly, so we wanted to see how well it stood up to the chill on its own merit.

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Worn, weathered and destined for paving bricks.

 

None of this helps the ducks out though.

They were sited this morning on the neighbours roof having a guernsey from up there across to the park and our garden. I’m not sure if they ever nested in the trees that were once at the back of the block. They would have been too young and didn’t offer up any hollow logs for nest spots. The Wood Ducks like that sort of thing. I have intentions to put up some nest boxes eventually. To entice them to hang around and have their young in the safe seclusion of our backyard. Rather than have to take part in the yearly ritual of seeking out suitable locations further and further from the edge of water where inevitably, they will be compelled to return to with their young to give them safety and food.

pp w duck 2

This morning I was not very successful with impressing on the ducks just how wonderful a little paradise the place will eventually be. The weather was a bit drab. Everything was soaked through and through. Though I don’t think the ducks mind. And as green as the place is starting to look, it still resembles a salvage yard that’s harbouring a herd of sleeping bulls somewhere in its midst. The promise of lush, raised garden beds, a little woodland of fruit trees and bushes and running water with ponds just occurred as so deep into the distance that it didn’t bare mentioning.

So I stared up at the ducks. And they stared back at me.

“One more season.” I said. “We’ve all had to have a little extra patience. Plus a little more. One more season. . .”

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