These ducks are a long way away from the croft - up the hill, down the other side, up another hill, around a corner and then along to a small Lochan with an unpronounceable Gaelic name.
The reason I can hear them - in between tunes (my husband is practicing his bagpipes) - is because there are so many of them. I don't know what the correct word is - not flock or swarm - whatever- the water is barely visible - there are so many.
These ducks have been bred and taken up there to be shot.
Not by us.
They are gorgeous. When you walk up there - they waddle up to you trustingly, expecting to be fed. They are fed once a day and the excited quacking at the approach of their meal can then be heard for miles. Some of the more adventurous even appear down at the croft, looking hopeful..
But what a nonsense - what a travesty. It does not make sense to me.
To grow ducks with great care - and then have fun shooting them!
Where is the sport? These birds are TAME.
I remember a cartoon I saw, in which a duck hunter is talking to a sitting duck.
"Please fly" he says
"I am not allowed to shoot you otherwise"
Instinctively it seems very wrong to me and I certainly couldn't do it myself
However - playing the devils advocate -
I do like to eat duck - I sometimes buy it in Tesco.
I assume that Tesco ducks are bred in nasty artificial circumstances, like hens, and never experience the wild - the glory of a Lochan in the mountains with an unpronounceable Gaelic name.
Perhaps it is better to be one of the ducks on said Lochan than a Tesco duck
Oh it all gets awfully confusing.
These are two of the ducks who followed me most of the way down the hill
These are two of the ducks who followed me most of the way down the hill
These are runaway ducks arriving at our neighbour in search of food - and safety!
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