“We have become a grandmother” (M. Thatcher 1989).
Four of the dearest little bébé ducklings appeared this morning. One egg didn’t hatch and I will take it away shortly, if it stays like that.
OH announced the ducklings’ arrival in the henhouse when he went to let everyone out (he is on poultry, not me).
I asked him to go back and shut the door, so there would be no escaping before we had a chance to get them to safety. The henhouse is not ideal as crows and other shite-hawks go in raiding.
With OH carrying the ducklings, I managed to grab Mother Duck, who was furious and put up a huge fight – that beak can do damage and she is much stronger than I imagined too (ungrateful old bag, I thought to myself, as I carried her to the new home).
So apart from any potential feathered murderers, there are also others to consider.
I’ve popped back every few hours just to check and to count.
I’ve told Daddy the good news. He’s a very proud father.
And so we wait for the others…. Penthesilea is not committed to sitting. She has just started her laying her clutch (again).
Black-ducky should be next but I am not convinced that her eggs are fertilised.
Then it’s ducky-behind-the-boards’ turn.
She’s in there, only leaving her nest for food and washing.
And lastly, little-hen-house ducky.
Who is very comfortable.
So, hopefully there will be more on their way.
Lots and lots of little ducklings.