Tag Archives: duck

18 August: Gilbert White V. Pond life

This marshy stretch of water offers cover to birds – and would-be hunters.

We continue reading from White’s letter to Pennant.

Wolmer Pond, so called, I suppose, for eminence sake, is a vast lake for this part of the world, containing, in its whole circumference, 2,646 yards, or very near a mile and a half.  The length of the north-west and opposite side is about 704 yards, and the breadth of the south-west end about 456 yards.  This measurement, which I caused to be made with good exactness, gives an area of about sixty-six acres, exclusive of a large irregular arm at the north-east corner, which we did not take into the reckoning.

On the face of this expanse of waters, and perfectly secure from fowlers, lie all day long, in the winter season, vast flocks of ducks, teals, and widgeons, of various denominations, where they preen and solace, and rest themselves, till towards sunset, when they issue forth in little parties (for in their natural state they are all birds of the night) to feed in the brooks and meadows, returning again with the dawn of the morning.  Had this lake an arm or two more, and were it planted round with thick covert (for now it is perfectly naked), it might make a valuable decoy.

A decoy uses floating model ducks to attract flocks of wild birds to a stretch of water where hunters and their retriever dogs are waiting.

Gilbert White can be seen here involving his parishioners in his science, surveying the pond. It must have been exciting for the swarms of children following behind. I daresay they got in the way.

He says elsewhere that rich tenants had stripped the oak woods around the pond, selling the timber, in all probability, to the Royal Naval Dockyard at Portsmouth to build ships with ‘hearts of oak’. War and greed deforesting England.

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26 May: Pamela Dodds R.I.P.

At last, this afternoon we can commit Pamela’s body to the ground by way of the crematorium. Bureaucracy doing what bureaucracy does, or doesn’t do.

When I say ‘we’, it will be just ten of us, unless the restrictions have been eased since the start of the month. We can come together in bigger numbers to celebrate her life once we can all breathe the same air again.

Meanwhile we pray for her, confident that the Good Shepherd has found her and brought her home.

This duck was a gift to our family from Pam. We painted it up like an Aylesbury duck, a popular British breed. It stands guard over our house which was named Aylesbury Villas by the Victorian builder. So we feel Pam is close to us, thanks to this relic!

Click here to read Eddie Gilmore’s appreciation of Pamela.

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23 June: Overheard on another journey. Pilgrimage to Canterbury XIII

goldenstringimage

Our L’Arche pilgrimage was like winding a section of Blake’s golden string, only those of us at the back of the group were following arrows chalked on the pavement by the frontrunners. What ten-year-old would not enjoy the chance to draw graffiti without getting into trouble?

In Dover I ended up walking with D, who may be slow, but speeds up to slow ahead when someone holds his hand. Having a banner to carry also helped him along.

Now D does not speak, though he has a vocabulary in Makaton signs (which I must learn again, not having used them for forty years). We were walking beside the River Dour in Dover when a duck started berating us. So I quacked back. D began to laugh, so I quacked even more. So did the duck.

Then D began making little grunts in time with my quacks. He’d got the joke and joined in. We were both still smiling when a few people caught up with us and mentioned lunch. At which point D’s feet found wings!

I think I passed through Jerusalem’s wall that morning.

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