The Fenland Duck!

Something strange I saw on an icy day. Someting that made me think!

Driving in a brutally freezing British landscape can be no fun at all. Permit me to share some details of what I witnessed whilst driving through the British Fens, in Cambridgeshire on such a day.

 

I had turned west onto a five mile stretch of road that runs parallel to the river that is called “Vermuden’s Drain.” So called after the great 16^th century Dutch engineer Cornelius Vermuden who designed the Fenland drainage system.  This sweeps water to the North Sea and reclaims thousands of acres of arable land for the British nobility.

 

The drain is called locally the “Forty Foot Drain.” This represents the width of the drain river from embankment edge to embankment edge. The road on which I travelled runs on top of the North river embankment, giving a superb view of silver, ram-rod straight, drain. Over night the water had frozen solid, save for the odd patch here and there. Snow had been falling for over three hours leaving a three inch deep, pristine white, crust over the ice.

 

As I began my drive by the side of the river I saw the set of Duck’s footprints walking towards the west. The same direction as I was driving. The webbed feet made progress at only about six inches per pace. They were the only marks that creased the sparkling snow. “Why was this creature out on this cruel day,” was the primary thought that came into my mind. All the other water birds; swans, coots, grebes, moorhens and even herons were taking what shelter they could find. Yet there was evidence of one, lonely, duck struggling onwards but to where and why?

 

As the animal had waddled it veered from one side to the other and, although generally heading west to where the sun would set that evening, it set a wavy course. The footprints indicated the duck had ignored the cosy reeds and brush on its flanks. It looked as though it had shown no temptation to reach the shelter of the vegetation. Nor, it seemed, was it tempted to search the reedy drain sides for tit bits to eat. 

 

The slow speed limit that supervises this dangerous stretch of road meant I could watch with ease the progress the fowl had made as it waddled westwards.  I looked forward to catching up to the slow moving bird.  I longed to view the stout hearted, independent creature. For over five hundred yards the webbed feet had flapped into the snow. Looking longer up the river I saw the footsteps went even further forwards, towards the angry distance.

 

One mile passed and the foot steps remained, eccentrically moving westwards. “One Mile,” I thought “What is this bird doing? It must be exhausting its self. What is driving it?  Why doesn’t it fly if it wants to cover distance?”

My eyes strained up the river.  The line of pattering, duck footprints moved forward relentlessly.  As I drove the duck's marks marched on, at all times preceeding the advancing wheels of my van. 

 

Presently there came a patch of water that because of some natural circumstance, unknown to me, had not frozen over. The bank side water was still frozen but an oval shape lagoon about fifty feet long had confronted my duck. “Yes! He is looking for water to swim or feed in.” I supposed. Certainly his little footprints indicated he had entered the little lake. Yet, no duck floated and bobbed in the ripples.

 

Almost exactly opposite where the valiant, webbed feet had entered the water the prints re appeared in the snow. Our little soldier had continued his or her westerly, route march.  My jaw dropped as my milometer showed the creature had walked three miles. What was this Herculean Duck up to?  Surely it must take cover, rest or feed soon.  Walking or waddling is not a duck's strong suite!   I wanted to see this fantastic animal to pay it the tribute it deserved.

 

The sky was silver and snow swirled on icy winds that must have blown, with venom, into the ducks face. “Turn around duck!” I whispered to myself, “At least have the wind in your back. What is the matter with you?”  No, this duck had fought through the teeth of the gale.

 

The duck had chose to ignore at least two five feet wide, lateral, feeder drains.  These drainage brooks were not frozen as they ran south to north.  This meant the savage wind swept across them saving them from the brutal chill.  As normal the side drains were full of vegetation and they were natural, warmer, hideaways where any creature may avoid the Arctic conditions.  This waterfowl chose to disregard these safe havens, electing instead to carry on, forcing its way on through the numbing chill.

  

There was no pause. On went the tracks up to three and one half swaying miles through the snow. Drat!  I needed to turn northwards, away from the river.  I still had not seen my feathered hero. For one last time I peered down the vastness of the drain hoping to catch just one glimpse of the remarkable creature. To spy just once the animal completing the greatest "duck march" in history!  All I saw were more and more six inch footsteps waddling, stubbornly, towards the point where the sun would eventually set over the river.

 

I thought perhaps we live our lives like this brave little duck, (that wobbled so ardently in a beautiful landscape).  Do we all Ignore safe havens, inhabited by others, searching for goals that remain unknown?. Are we driven by instinct through adversity?   Or do we merely plod onward through life towards our own final sun set? 

Reviews

[Pat Nurse]

Well observed and nicely written. If I am to criticise - which isn't really criticism as much as my own personal preference - I would say that I don't like first person accounts. I find that they place the writer in front of what they are trying to show me but I can't see because they're in the way.
I would comment on some of your poems but I'm no poet so I think any crit from me would be invalid.

[Donald Meikle]

great write. Most of us would have missed it, I saw a blackbird stop at a traffic light
It waited to cross the walkway until the lights changed. Loved your blip by the way

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

Excellent write! I think we're all in some way like that duck! Love the imagery!

[OT]

brilliantly written and great descriptions. Your talk of the fen reminded me of my A Level biology haha! and the last paragraph is brilliant, I think we all plod on towards our final sun set embracing the wonders which confront us on the way!

[Cafe Reader]

Very good writing. A lot of good thoughts to ponder!

[Cherrie Palmer]

I love stories about Incidental events that capture your attention, wonderful story

[Detective Watts]

It's like reading P.G Wodehouse. 5 stars.