At the end of our road is a duck-pond (one of four in the village) which has it’s own community of ducks. They’re never exactly afraid of cars at the best of times – one of the people on the road feeds them regularly, so it’s quite common to see a whole line of mallards crossing the road – but they’re even worse at the moment.

It’s breeding/hatching season, you see – so it’s not just all the mature adult ducks, but whole conglomerations of fresh-out ducklings too. And they’re even more food-focussed than the adults. Or maybe they’re just dafter, I’m not sure.

This morning, on leaving the house, I had to stop and wait for the whole line of feathered (OK, downy) fuckwits to cross the road before I could get on with my journey. I don’t mind really – it’s nice to see them plonking about – but it does make me wonder how many will actually survive through to adulthood.