Jo'Burg Days: Mr Duck-Duck And His Family
Barbara Durlacher tells us of Mr Duck-Duck, an Egyptian goose with a healthy appetite who patrols the gardens of the complex where she lives in Johannesburg, South Africa.
This is Barbara's first contribution to Open Writing. She will be writing regularly for us in the forthcoming weeks and months. Watch out for more Jo-Burg Days!
I love the birds in the complex, but my goodness, they are destructive. We have Mr Duck-Duck, an Egyptian goose, whose mate is sitting on eggs. He is so lonely that he patrols the gardens where he knows the owners feed the smaller birds, hoping to get a mouthful or two, and if he does not get lucky he mows down any new green foliage he sees.
I planted three packets of sweetpeas for a spring treat, and even went so far as to cover them with fine netting so the birds would not eat the seedlings, thinking that all would then be well. When they had grown sufficiently, I removed the netting so they could grow and mature, and along came Duck-Duck. He now has breakfasts REGULARLY on what is left and I haven't had a single flower …
Some time later:
Mr and Mrs Duck-Duck hatched out eleven lovely little goslings. (They are actually Egyptian geese, so I suppose I should give them the correct diminutive and not call them ducklings.) They are the most charming perambulating tiny balls of yellow fluff, and follow Ma and Pa in single-file all over the garden.
Fiercely proud, the parents shepherded them across roads, making sure that traffic stopped for them to cross at the designated places, and then taught them to go into one of the artificial ponds to make sure that the darlings had the requisite amount of exercise and swimming practice.
Unfortunately, all the ponds in the gardens are powered by a strong pump to re-circulate the water and have quite large outlets - and unknowingly, one tiny gosling was drawn into the whirlpool.
Obeying their instincts, all except two followed and were sucked down the outflow. Seeing the tragedy, a passer-by rushed to the rescue to try to fish out one or two of the little victims before they drowned.
The doting parents immediately attacked the Good Samaritan, afflicting quite serious cuts to his cheek and ear.
Now, whenever one goes for a walk around the complex, you see people carrying their knobkerries and walking sticks, stout sjamboks, or even stock whips with which to defend themselves from the over-protective Duck-Ducks!
I have been giggling ever since I heard the story and saw all these timorous adults ... although believe me, the affected onlookers are not laughing at all, and are trying to get the authorities to remove the Duck-Ducks forthwith, as they say they constitute a danger to life and limb!
And now, a-n-o-t-h-e-r part of the Duck-Duck story.
After the ATTACK (sob, sob) on the good Samaritan ... (and now I must digress to tell you that evidently he actually wasn't attacked, but in his haste to help the poor drowning goslings, fell on his face and grazed his forehead, nose and chin ...) The uproar the onlookers then caused with the authorities, as well as the uproar the geese cause daily at 0500 hrs, calling and displaying in a mating dance on the ridgepole of the apartments opposite, eventually persuaded the powers-that-be that the Duck-Ducks must go.
After considerable difficulty, they managed to find a kind home for most of them. So, to the regret of many of the residents who have known and loved the geese for many years, a number have already gone, and it only remains for the balance to be captured and re-located.
Talk about a storm in a warer feature!
But believe it or not, Mr Duck-Duck visited me this morning and stole a few bites of some over-ripe bananas put out for the LBJs (little brown jobs). When I flapped a newspaper at him he retreated, looking very guilty and ashamed of himself.
I’ll really rather miss him when he's gone. How many of us have a dear tame goose scissoring away at our seedlings, standing enquiringly at the front door, then tiptoeing into the lounge to ask for food?
