Spring is definitely in the air. Time to cut back, tidy all the detritus, let the new shoots emerge unhindered by the last year’s has beens. At The Farm on Thursday I was merrily pulling defunct crocosmia foliage when I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched. Then I spotted the culprit, so well camouflaged I was almost upon her, Mrs Duck. She didn’t move. Not one iota. Her beady eye watched my every move, but she was not shifting, not even an inch. This made me wonder, in fact made me certain, she was sitting on a brood. Right outside a holiday cottage, which is going to be occupied in a matter of a few weeks. Perhaps 200m from the pond. Oh dear. This probably isn’t the best place to set up a nursery. We looked up timings, 28 days from lay to hatch. Apparently they rarely leave the nest except for a quick snack and a leg stretch. We might just get away with it before the Easter hoards arrive. Otherwise there will be warnings and vigils and great expectations.
But now I am worried. She is vulnerable here. Foxes roam, stoats are active. She can’t be moved. It is all down to fate now, and that fickle queen isn’t always kind.