Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Lets get ready to....
I like my ducks less when they are fighting.
At the moment Willie is being particularly obnoxious. He and Cheryl are constantly fighting, but only because Cheryl is the only one that isn't running away all the time. He is so busy attacking the others that the sparrows are getting more food than the ducks are.
It is mildly entertaining watching the go at it, with feathers flying and watching them biting each other, but really I'd rather enjoy feeding them. I'll have to wait for their silly disagreement to die down.
At the moment Willie is being particularly obnoxious. He and Cheryl are constantly fighting, but only because Cheryl is the only one that isn't running away all the time. He is so busy attacking the others that the sparrows are getting more food than the ducks are.
It is mildly entertaining watching the go at it, with feathers flying and watching them biting each other, but really I'd rather enjoy feeding them. I'll have to wait for their silly disagreement to die down.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Sitting still
Hinemoa and Cheryl were new in town. Two young girls with time on their hands. Both were outcasts of a type. Cheryl because of her unusual colouring and Hinemoa because of being half caste - half mallard and half pāteke. Neither had managed to find a suitable drake, and so they had each other for companionship.
They had moved into a new area recently, and things were good. There were a few cats in the area, but the were not prepared to attack two ducks. There were no dogs, and the locals didn't seem to mind them being there.
There was also a bonus - occasional free food. One of the humans that lived in the area often turned up and threw out bread. Today he was doing it again. However there was one problem, he didn't throw it very far away.
It was just a bit to scary to get the food. What were his intentions? Was he meaning good or evil? Was he wanting to capture them, eat them, or just feed them. Cheryl was a little more daring than Hinemoa, but both of them felt quite intimidated.
However, as long as he sat still, there was much less danger, so they moved in and took some of the close bread. But one movement, and they were off.
Finally he stood up and left, and they were able to come in and finish the bread.
They had moved into a new area recently, and things were good. There were a few cats in the area, but the were not prepared to attack two ducks. There were no dogs, and the locals didn't seem to mind them being there.
There was also a bonus - occasional free food. One of the humans that lived in the area often turned up and threw out bread. Today he was doing it again. However there was one problem, he didn't throw it very far away.
It was just a bit to scary to get the food. What were his intentions? Was he meaning good or evil? Was he wanting to capture them, eat them, or just feed them. Cheryl was a little more daring than Hinemoa, but both of them felt quite intimidated.
However, as long as he sat still, there was much less danger, so they moved in and took some of the close bread. But one movement, and they were off.
Finally he stood up and left, and they were able to come in and finish the bread.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Counting the cost
Feeding the ducks has been a relatively cheap exercise. It doesn't take much of my time, it is a pleasure rather than a chore, and bread (at least low quality bread) is remarkably cheap. The biggest cost has been the mess that the ducks make. While they are not as messy as some animals, they still leave a trail behind themselves.
My car has fresh deposits almost every day. My flatmate owns a trampoline, and it had become a favourite resting place for the ducks. The top of the trampoline is now more brown than black.
But the decision I've made is that the enjoyment I get from the messy ducks is worth the trouble they cause me.
My car has fresh deposits almost every day. My flatmate owns a trampoline, and it had become a favourite resting place for the ducks. The top of the trampoline is now more brown than black.
But the decision I've made is that the enjoyment I get from the messy ducks is worth the trouble they cause me.
This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you
A whole piece of bread sitting on the lawn.
Two ducks looking at me wanting food.
They are not the smartest ducks in the world these two.
I had just finished making a tui feeder by hollowing out a piece of wood with a hammer and chisel, and I had left a lot of wood chips on the lawn. The ducks had turned up, noticed the wood chips, investigated, discovered they were not food, and accordingly decided to sit on the lawn and quack. Loudly.
I wanted to watch them enjoying the food, and I wanted them to know that I was responsible for them getting food. I tried calling them over, but they have not quite learned my voice, so they just looked at me and continued quacking.
I only had one option left to show them where the food was: fear. I walked around behind them, and they started to move away, looking at me nervously. It only took about 10 seconds to manoeuver them towards the bread.
It took a little fear, but I managed to get them to where the bread was.
Two ducks looking at me wanting food.
They are not the smartest ducks in the world these two.
I had just finished making a tui feeder by hollowing out a piece of wood with a hammer and chisel, and I had left a lot of wood chips on the lawn. The ducks had turned up, noticed the wood chips, investigated, discovered they were not food, and accordingly decided to sit on the lawn and quack. Loudly.
I wanted to watch them enjoying the food, and I wanted them to know that I was responsible for them getting food. I tried calling them over, but they have not quite learned my voice, so they just looked at me and continued quacking.
I only had one option left to show them where the food was: fear. I walked around behind them, and they started to move away, looking at me nervously. It only took about 10 seconds to manoeuver them towards the bread.
It took a little fear, but I managed to get them to where the bread was.
Attractiveness and rewards of enthusiasm
This evening when I arrived home, two ducks heard my car arrive, and both turned up on the lawn. It was my two most regular ducks. One was the drake with white flecks on his face. I call him Willie. The other one was his mate, the eager Wilma.
When I got out of the car Willie started quacking, and Wilma ran up to about 2m away from me. Enthiusiastic to see if I had anything for her.
While ducks are slightly annoying (read particularly annoying when they quack at 6am outside my window) I get real pleasure in feeding them. The last thing I want is for them to not like me, so whenever I have a chance I feed them. To them my house is a Bethlehem (which means House of Bread).
But I don't just throw out bread. I want something in return. They have to come closer to me than they are comfortable with. I throw the bread close to me, to get them to come near. Wilma has figured this out, but Willie has not really got it down yet.
As a result, I move to one of the spots where I feed the ducks, and Wilma comes and takes some of the bread out of my hand, and Willie looks on nervously, missing out on the bread. Sure I throw him some, and he comes in and gets some of the crumbs that Wilma leaves behind, but he gets a lot less than she does.
There is often a little bread left over from a previous feeding, but it is stale, and not as fresh as the current stuff. If only he would get over his fear of me, he would get to have a good feed of fresh bread, and would also get to interact with me more than he does already.
When I got out of the car Willie started quacking, and Wilma ran up to about 2m away from me. Enthiusiastic to see if I had anything for her.
While ducks are slightly annoying (read particularly annoying when they quack at 6am outside my window) I get real pleasure in feeding them. The last thing I want is for them to not like me, so whenever I have a chance I feed them. To them my house is a Bethlehem (which means House of Bread).
But I don't just throw out bread. I want something in return. They have to come closer to me than they are comfortable with. I throw the bread close to me, to get them to come near. Wilma has figured this out, but Willie has not really got it down yet.
As a result, I move to one of the spots where I feed the ducks, and Wilma comes and takes some of the bread out of my hand, and Willie looks on nervously, missing out on the bread. Sure I throw him some, and he comes in and gets some of the crumbs that Wilma leaves behind, but he gets a lot less than she does.
There is often a little bread left over from a previous feeding, but it is stale, and not as fresh as the current stuff. If only he would get over his fear of me, he would get to have a good feed of fresh bread, and would also get to interact with me more than he does already.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The lurking enemy and the obvious threat
Deidre was concerned. The world that had always seemed to be quite reasonable was turning out to be a very difficult place to live. She had always dreamed of raising her ducklings in the same place that she had lived: feeding at people's houses and swimming in the estuary.
But the dream and the reality were very different things.
It seemed that the place that she remembered was more hostile than she ever imagined. Here she was trying to get enough food to feed her babies, and she seemed to be having to spend all her time fighting off threats. She started with a large brood. 17 ducklings. More than any of the other ducks had. She had been very proud of them, but their numbers were decreasing. Some of them had been injured, and unable to keep up. Some of them had wondered too close to the neighbourhood cats. 2 of them had been run over. She was down to 6. 11 of her babies gone.
There were threats everywhere. Cats and dogs, a hawk that flew past from time to time. You could hardly leave the ducklings for a minute: they would walk too close to a large bush and a cat would jump out; or they would fall down a drain and break their legs. That had been the hardest to handle. She was powerless to help, just had to watch the poor little thing die. At least she managed to fight off the ginger cat with no tail. It had broken her leg, but she managed to stop it from taking a third duckling.
So the best option was to stay on the short lawns. Sometimes people brought them bread to eat, and it meant that she could see the cats coming. She knew that there was one in the long grass at the edge of the lawn, but her chicks were staying close to her, and as long as she kept an eye out it wouldn't be able to get them.
And here was another threat. It was Jack, one of the loner drakes. She wasn't sure what he wanted, but it can't have been good.
Jack was a young drake, full of bravado and bluster. He strutted round trying to look like he owned the place. Secretly he was probably disappointed that he didn't have a mate, but on the outside all he had was swagger. The young drakes were always unpredictable, and Jack was no exception. Deidre had seen him sitting on the roof of houses, just watching. It always looked like he was waiting for his chance to pounce. It was like he was aware that at some time soon an opportunity was coming, and he did not want to miss out.
What the opportunity was she was not sure. She wasn't sure that he knew either, but she wasn't about to let herself or her ducklings become a victim of his quest to climb the social ladder.
The first option was to hope that he went away. But that was not to be. He spotted her, and started to waddle in her direction. Deidre started to think quickly. Her instincts told her that nothing good could come out of this. He might be about to steal her food. He might be about to attack her ducklings. What should she do?
The ducklings were too small and slow to be able to run away effectively, and after the incident with the cat Deidre was injured, and unlikely to be much good in a fight.
Then Jack started to make threatening noises. A low pitched repetitive quack. Deidre knew what that meant: danger! She wasn't going to let it be danger for her and her little ones. Deidre puffed up her feathers, and got aggressive. Quacking at top volume, she ran after Jack waggling her beak in a threatening manner.
And it worked.
Jack backed off, breaking into a fly and disappearing.
And as that happened the cat jumped out from the bushes and took another duckling. The cat that Jack had been trying to warn her about.
But the dream and the reality were very different things.
It seemed that the place that she remembered was more hostile than she ever imagined. Here she was trying to get enough food to feed her babies, and she seemed to be having to spend all her time fighting off threats. She started with a large brood. 17 ducklings. More than any of the other ducks had. She had been very proud of them, but their numbers were decreasing. Some of them had been injured, and unable to keep up. Some of them had wondered too close to the neighbourhood cats. 2 of them had been run over. She was down to 6. 11 of her babies gone.
There were threats everywhere. Cats and dogs, a hawk that flew past from time to time. You could hardly leave the ducklings for a minute: they would walk too close to a large bush and a cat would jump out; or they would fall down a drain and break their legs. That had been the hardest to handle. She was powerless to help, just had to watch the poor little thing die. At least she managed to fight off the ginger cat with no tail. It had broken her leg, but she managed to stop it from taking a third duckling.
So the best option was to stay on the short lawns. Sometimes people brought them bread to eat, and it meant that she could see the cats coming. She knew that there was one in the long grass at the edge of the lawn, but her chicks were staying close to her, and as long as she kept an eye out it wouldn't be able to get them.
And here was another threat. It was Jack, one of the loner drakes. She wasn't sure what he wanted, but it can't have been good.
Jack was a young drake, full of bravado and bluster. He strutted round trying to look like he owned the place. Secretly he was probably disappointed that he didn't have a mate, but on the outside all he had was swagger. The young drakes were always unpredictable, and Jack was no exception. Deidre had seen him sitting on the roof of houses, just watching. It always looked like he was waiting for his chance to pounce. It was like he was aware that at some time soon an opportunity was coming, and he did not want to miss out.
What the opportunity was she was not sure. She wasn't sure that he knew either, but she wasn't about to let herself or her ducklings become a victim of his quest to climb the social ladder.
The first option was to hope that he went away. But that was not to be. He spotted her, and started to waddle in her direction. Deidre started to think quickly. Her instincts told her that nothing good could come out of this. He might be about to steal her food. He might be about to attack her ducklings. What should she do?
The ducklings were too small and slow to be able to run away effectively, and after the incident with the cat Deidre was injured, and unlikely to be much good in a fight.
Then Jack started to make threatening noises. A low pitched repetitive quack. Deidre knew what that meant: danger! She wasn't going to let it be danger for her and her little ones. Deidre puffed up her feathers, and got aggressive. Quacking at top volume, she ran after Jack waggling her beak in a threatening manner.
And it worked.
Jack backed off, breaking into a fly and disappearing.
And as that happened the cat jumped out from the bushes and took another duckling. The cat that Jack had been trying to warn her about.
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