With my place at the University of Zoom firmly secured, I had more time than ever at home to establish the pond. I persuaded my father to buy some corn from a local farmer and set about creating a natural hide that would face away from the house. The little splash soon became my lockdown project.
Not long after I began to feed the pond, mallard started arriving. Each morning, I would get out of bed and look out the window towards the pond. Some mornings there would be a pair, others there would be perhaps eight or 10. Lying in bed at night I would hear them chattering to each other. As the weeks grew colder, teal began to make an appearance too. They were less consistent than the mallard. Occasionally a gang of 10 or 15 would ambush the pond, but then not return for a few days. Anticipation for the inaugural garden pond duck flight was building.
Dingles
The day finally came to flight the pond. As a warm-up, we thought we would spend the afternoon walking through a few of the local dingles for a woodcock. Mum had elected to beat and, with Dad in charge of the dogs, I was left to go on ahead and melt into the cover ready to intercept any going forward. Ten minutes passed standing still as a post, locked in a staring contest with a bold robin.
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