Going Quackers

There I was, minding my own business, heading home from a little trip to Tesco to buy a watering can when I was startled by a fowl beast in the undergrowth. It served me right; I took the short cut by the stream (a charming term that doesn’t quite convey the shallow still water that the footpath accompanies, it was that or say it was a dyke but that would cause unnecessary sniggering at the back). 

It had crossed my mind that, at worst, there may be youths lurking around like youths are wont to do, although it turns out the modern day youth prefers to hang out on the bench near the kiddies ride outside Tesco eating pasties, no wonder there’s an obesity problem. At least I could out run them if they approached me with a shank. Oh yes, I know the street lingo, although my use of the word lingo may betray my real lack of coolness.

If there hadn’t been youths on the footpath to Tesco then it would be dogs off leads. This is a particular hazard when I’m out running as the dogs come bounding up to say ‘hello’ in that semi-aggressive way all dogs do. As a cat person (not literally) I am immediately suspicious of dogs and are never quite sure whether they’re bounding over to lick me or bite my face off, so when I’m on a run and a dog is running straight at me in the opposite direction I have that cold sense of fear that it’s going to be the latter. So far no dog has chosen to attack me; they’ve always been called off by their owners at the last minute.  “Princess, come here Princess”, they call. Princess? Cerberus more like. 

So today there were no errant youths or hounds from hell waiting to throw me into the stagnant water. Mind you, it would be no great shakes if they did, I could have shown off my new ability to doggy paddle, oh yes. No, today I was harassed by a duck. 

Stop laughing.

You see I became an unwitting enemy of duck kind some years ago. I thought they’d forgiven me, understood that I was just an innocent bystander of sorts, I’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it would appear that they talk and news of ‘the incident’ has got around. I shall explain.

It was 2004. I was driving myself and the present Mrs Hayward to work. We lived in the town of Stamford, a lovely little town if you’re ever in the area, and I had just passed The George Hotel and was driving down the aptly named Water Street, just by the river. 

I had found this little shortcut out of town some months before and was particularly pleased with myself. I’d driven it many times without incident but on this one particular morning, about this time of year, our little green Rover 100 found itself crossing the descent path of a low flying duck. 

To be fair the first I knew of it was when I saw a duck’s arse land on the windscreen right in my eye line. To be clear the duck’s arse was attached to the duck but I hadn’t been awake long and it landed with quite a thud so the arse was about all I actually saw of it. 

I say landed, I suppose the correct term would be bounced. I squealed to a halt and looked in the mirrors but astoundingly the duck had managed to incorporate its encounter with our windscreen into an elaborate stunt and flew happily into the distance. It probably still laughs about it with all the other ducks to this day. “You should have seen their faces when I landed on their car, if I’d had a camera I’d have taken a photo. Another glass of Champagne? Don’t mind if I do”. The end.

If you’re an animal lover, here’s a picture of some kittens. Just look at these and I’ll see you next time.

Have they gone? Good. 

Now look, I’m an animal lover too but let’s be honest, this was not my fault. I can’t be held responsible for a duck falling from the heavens, and I did check it was OK by, er, looking in the mirrors, but really, truly, it was nowhere in sight. It’s possible that I may even have got out of the car and trawled the riverbank for confirmation that the unfortunate bird had been unruffled by the whole event. Equally I may not have done this, it was such a long time ago. Either way, the duck was nowhere to be seen so I assumed all was well and carried on my way. What I didn’t expect was what was to come in the following weeks.

It may have been an eerie coincidence that I lived in a road called Mallard Court at the time but suddenly and without warning a proliferation of ducks seemed to be appearing outside our house. I would be stood in the window washing up and they would sit outside, just staring at me. They’d lurk around the communal car park waiting for me to come out and get back into the death-mobile. In the middle of the night, when all was silent, I would suddenly hear a lone ‘quack’ outside my bedroom window. They seemed to want me to know they were there.

They never did anything; they just hung around in groups, staring at me in an accusatory manner like one of the gangs from ‘West Side Story’. Seriously, if they’d had fingers they’d have been clicking them as I passed.

I realised that they were there for one reason and one reason only, to remind me of my crime, and it worked. You’ve seen the advert where that bloke has run over a child and wherever he goes the child is there, in the bathroom, at work with him, in the pub, in the corner of the bedroom just before he turns the light out. My life is just like that, but instead of a child there's a duck. 

I tried to reason with them but they were having none of it. They just quietly quacked disapprovingly amongst themselves. I liked Stamford but I was glad when we decided to move to Bourne as I would be leaving the duck gang behind me. ‘They wouldn’t dare come to Bourne’, I thought. Bourne had a duck-based reputation. This may be a rumour but I’d heard that one of the local Chinese restaurants had, many years ago, taken advantage of the local duck population when they ran out of supplies. As I say, this may of course be just a rumour. Please don’t sue me.

So the duck menace was over, or so I thought. That was until the other day when I was outside in the garden watching the grass grow. No, really I was, I’m so impressed that chucking a bit of grass seed down has actually worked as we now have the promised green hue of a burgeoning lawn. I was so thrilled that we’d actually managed to grow something that nothing could bring me down, until I heard a nearby ‘quack’. 

I looked around and couldn’t see any sign of where it had come from, and then I looked up. Sat on the roof of the neighbour’s house, staring down at me with that familiar haunting glare, were two ducks. They’d found me, after all these years. I tell you, if they’d put a duck on the trail of Osama Bin Laden we’d have had that sorry business sorted out years ago.

I scurried indoors and hid in our bedroom. After a while of cowering under the duvet I dared to peep out of the curtains and was relieved to see that they had gone. I reasoned that these must be different ducks and that it was all just a coincidence. Until this evening.

So, as I said, I was on my way back from Tesco, and was merrily wandering down the footpath when there was a sudden rustling from the bushes to my right which quickly grew into a much louder commotion. Expecting a wild boar or seven foot high attacker to emerge, such was the noise, I held up my watering can in defence, only for a duck to fly at speed out from the bushes, just inches from my face. 

I am not afraid to say I used some choice language such was the shock. The duck screamed down the length of the stream (or dyke, take your pick) and then doubled back and came round for a victory flight. For some reason I shook my fist at it. Further down the path I encountered a gaggle of ducks in the water who were quacking loudly, as if they were laughing at me. I was annoyed and found myself shouting at them. “Yeah?”, I said, “yeah? You’ll have to try harder than that”. 

On reflection, to the casual observer, I must have looked like a madman, one of those ‘local characters’ you hear about, howling at the moon and bellowing at shadows. 

I don’t know what to make of this. I guess I have to live with the fact that the ducks are back and this time they mean business. I will try to settle this dispute but don’t be surprised if you hear that they have ambushed me again as I fear these ASBO ducks have one aim. They mean to kill me.

I shall be on my guard.