And then there were none

Ducks

I was going to write another bird story today, but I got busy. Instead, here are some ducks.

These are not the pictures I was going to use for the story, but if you feel some captions coming on, please do share!

Tufted ducks and friends

Recently I have seen tufted ducks on a little river near here. (Not on the river I usually visit.)


Whenever I have seen these ducks, they are always hanging out with some ducks that are not tufted ducks. I think they are pochards. All of these ducks are diving ducks, and they look like children's toys. They look, somehow, painted.





But there are some mysteries about these ducks. Well, at least to me they are mysteries. Maybe you can help me to understand what is going on.

The first mystery is this: Where are the female tufted ducks? In the Wikipedia pictures, the female is brown. I have never seen a brown duck at the river. There seem to be only males.

The second mystery is why these two types of ducks are always hanging around together. I thought at first they were male and female, but although they are both diving ducks (I know because I have seen them both dive), I cannot find any pictures that show a male and female that look like these ones do.

I did, however, find some pictures that made me wonder whether the pochards are actually hybrid pochard/tufted ducks. But that still leaves the question of why they are all male. Unless, of course, some of them are actually female and I just haven't found the right pictures yet and matched them up.

Also, I wonder why this particular tufted duck (below) has some brownish feathers under its wings? The others are just black and white. Is it also some kind of hybrid?

And finally, did you know before seeing this picture that ducks had tongues? I didn't. Actually, I hadn't ever thought about it, and I suppose if I had I would have guessed that they did. But even so, I find this tongue rather surprising.

Exploding duck

...waving goodbye.

Olympic hero

Today I have discovered my new Olympic hero. Henry Pearce died in 1976, so obviously will not be competing in the Olympics starting today. Also, he was Australian, so I am being a little unpatriotic.

But never mind! This man had his priorities right. He thought there was a place for ducks in any Olympic event, and so do I.

Fluffy bottoms

"Mum? What's the proper way to behave when you get head-butted by a carp?"


"You depart in a dignified manner, as quickly as possible."


"And you hope the carp doesn't follow because it's hard to be dignified with a carp's head up your bottom."


"I think we're safe now."


Hee hee! Fluffy bottoms!

One-legged motherhood

Herding the cat

"Everybody! Remember what I told you. Look innocent.
The idea is to let him think that HE'S chasing US. "

"And when we get to the end, we hang around just out of reach, looking innocent AND tasty. "

"And then, while we're looking innocent and tasty, he jumps. Like this. Ha ha ha!"

"Ooh, it'll be so funny!"

"Shhh! Look innocent!"

"Here he comes!"

"Try to look tasty."

"Hee hee hee!"

"Shhhh!"

"Hee hee hee!"

"Stop giggling!"

"Damn. It didn't work. Now what?"

"We go back and try it again, at the other end."

"This is weird."

"I'm feeling kind of . . . spooked."

"I don't get it."

"I mean, I'm the cat, right? I'm chasing them, right? So why were they BEHIND me?"

"Something feels wrong. And I'm sure I heard a giggle."

"Are they still there? I'm afraid to look."

"Ah. Good. My secret escape tunnel."

"What am I saying? I don't need to escape! I mean, the place I go to plot my next attack on those cowardly ducks."

"It's your fault! You didn't look tasty enough."

"Nonsense! It was you. You shouldn't have giggled."

"Cats can't stand it when you giggle. It makes them nervous."

Wipeout

Down at the little river last week, the ducks had been galvanized by the discovery of jet propulsion. They all wanted to try it.


They had varying degrees of success. Some were making progress, and had managed to achieve a sedate putter.


Others had mastered the art, and were zooming around the river at top speed.


Yet others were still having trouble with the concept.


One duck decided to go off by himself to experiment. He was convinced he could go faster than anybody if only he could practice a little on his own first.

He waited until he was sure nobody was watching.


Then he took a deep breath . . .


. . . revved a bit . . .


And he was off! He was amazing.


He got up to an extraordinary speed.


This caused some confusion when he passed other ducks too closely.


After a while he braked. . .


. . . executed an almost perfect 'tumble turn' . . .


And headed back the way he'd come.


I don't know what happened next. I missed it. In fact, he was going so fast everybody missed it. We only saw the aftermath.


I guess he wiped out.


It was horrifying.

For a while we thought the worst.


It seemed unbelievable that he could have survived. Things looked grim.


But then he recovered. He managed to right himself again.


And although he suffered a slight loss of feather, he was otherwise fine.


As I cycled off to work I overheard him extolling the benefits of the contemplative life.

"We ducks are not made for life in the fast lane!" he was shouting. "Give it up now!"


But I don't think anybody was listening.