Leith's ducks are starting to develop fussy eating habits – Susan Morrison
I will see a duck, point at it and firmly announce “there is a duck”. That is a bird well spotted in my book. Then I will chuck some bread.
The ducks used to like bread, but as lockdown has ground along, I can’t help but noticing a certain ennui sneaking into the duck attitude to stale loaves.
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Hide AdOther birdlife have pretty much carried on as normal. The swans remain beautiful and snobbish because they know the Queen is the only one who can legally eat them. Be careful, my fine-feathered friends, this lockdown continues and some of you might find yourselves in a peasant’s oven.
Gulls will happily eat anything thrown in the air. Discerning diners they are not. This ‘flying bin’ policy nearly came a cropper last week when a woman was hurling what looked like the last of a clootie dumpling into the water. You can tell a dumpling from a Christmas cake. When a clootie hits the water, it resembles a depth charge being launched by HMS Edinburgh. Should a U-Boat be lurking under the surface of the Water of Leith, a direct clootie hit would take out the conning tower. Christmas cake just crumbles.
This kind lady was launching a dark-brown clootie into the air and the gulls were moving in like the Red Arrows. One greedy beady eyed solo fighter shot in for a substantial chunk, intercepted it at speed, woofed that clootie down and immediately regretted it.
Don’t know if you've ever seen an overloaded gull crash land into Water of Leith but it is a sight to behold, especially if it kamikazes a passing swan convoy. White feathers all over the shop.
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Hide AdThe ducks, however, have become quite the Bake-Off bread judges. Plain bread just isn’t cutting it anymore, not when people have been scattering the remains of Christmas feasts. I’ve seen cake, scones and panettone thrown and gobbled while bread is left sinking, shunned by the ducks with the contempt of Paul Hollywood facing a soggy-bottomed roll.
In the face of this indifference, I still insist on throwing bread at ducks, but my innocent pleasure has recently become fraught and not because of the birds. The competition to feed them has ramped up, especially since the schools are still off.
A few days ago, I chucked a chunk of heel, and watched it sink untouched by the ducks. They were more interested in something else. I looked to my left and there was a little girl, about five years old. She was a lovely wee thing, blonde curly hair, huge blue eyes and wearing a little furry jacket and bright red wellies.
She gazed at me levelly and said: “I’m feeding these ducks.”
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Hide AdThat's when I knew someone was muscling in on my patch. I had walked into a duck-feeding turf war, and what’s more, I was outgunned by a cute little girl who had come armed with homemade sourdough and wholemeal bread. A wise warrior knows when to retreat, and I stood no chance.
I pocketed my stale white and shuffled off the battlefield.
But I’ll be back. And I’m bringing croissants.
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