Saw this little gaggle of geese yesterday when out walking with Nell - twelve goslings in all, plopping into the canal for a swimming lesson with three responsible adults in tow. It was lovely to stand and watch them for a while, and on our return walk, they were all sitting on the field in the sunshine, nibbling grass for breakfast.
A pair of ducks have been parading their ducklings for a week or so now, along the same stretch of canal. There were six babies to begin with, but their numbers have dwindled. Yesterday there was only one left and this morning, none. Yesterday, a heron was hanging around in the vicinity of the ducks' nest. I wondered if herons predate ducklings? I suppose they do - big birds with big beaks would make small work of a newly hatched duckling. I see the cranes often, standing on the canal banks, all lightness, grace and elegance. They are admirable-looking birds - and murderous, calculating predators, too. But they have to eat; feed their own. Nature - red in tooth and claw, I suppose.
Do ducks suffer grief and broken-hearts when they lose their babies like this? Surely they must?
I've spent this morning working on the vegetable beds now that the growing season is here. I put the sweet peas in with the strawberries, training them up a cunning ensemble of bamboo canes and netting which did not make me swear ONCE in its construction, oh no, not once it did not. The sweet peas immediately pretended to be dead, such was their outrage at being transplanted, but they’ll buck up if I ignore them and don’t feed their hysterics with sympathy.
Planting out the French beans, I was aware of Graham, Oscar, Julian and Scott - the four fat wood pigeons who strut ineptly around the garden like they are on permanent holiday in La Costa Del Sol - watching with beady, greedy eyes at what they seemed to assume was the installation of a new salad bar. Pah! I have scuppered their murderous designs on the beans with copious netting held up with hoops. They’ll only be able to reach the beans if they are skilled with scissors and wire cutters. And given that sometimes they aren’t even skilled enough to get themselves off the ground and into the air which is something that should come naturally to them, I think the beans might be safe.
The courgettes are in situ now, too. Only two plants, but I've sowed a spare in the greenhouse as insurance. I've also direct sown some beetroot (red and golden), radish, mizuna, rocket, dill and coriander. Darling Daughter has especially requested dill, so I’ve sown her a large pot of her own. And I’ve started off another batch of basil in the greenhouse. Next on the list is to set the tomatoes into their final pots, construct a climbing frame for the cucumbers and plant out the purple sprouting broccoli. The marigolds and nasturtiums are almost ready to take up their roles as companion plants to deter unsavoury slugs and bugs. I am going to be brave tomorrow and install the baby lupins in their permanent new home and, once installed, I shall take up position next to them in a chair, armed with a shot gun to protect them from the bastard slugs that will no doubt descend. OR I shall scatter around my mix of coffee grounds, egg shells and holly leaves because I don’t actually own a shot gun. (Sssshhh…don’t tell the slugs!)
I need to think of where the asters and geraniums will go or I’ll end up panicking and whacking them in any old place.
The wisteria is even more magnificent than it was a few days ago and is full of bees.
And that is all on the gardening front today.
(P.S All twelve goslings were alive when I saw them this morning. I suspect it would take a very brave, or very foolhardy, heron to take on goose parents.)
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