B & C - and Daddy Duck

I went through the back gate and walked under the poplars to look at the
creek. It's almost duckling time and Daddy Drake was patrolling up and
down the waterway.

I turned around. B & C were creeping through the grass behind me
towards the creek. They are petrified of water, perhaps they remember
their unintended swims in the wash-house tub. Scared kitties walk in a
slow motion way. It's a bit like a dance. One paw up, hesitate, sniff,
paw down, stop, a step to the right, stop, sniff, sit down. Sniff.
Stand up, repeat the process. Behind them lurched FSP - she reckons
anywhere I go is safe for her. She began winding herself around my legs
and meowing. B & C continued their slow progress right up to the high
bank leading down to the water. Then they saw Daddy Drake - yikes. I
thought their eyes were going to pop out. Was it a bird, was it a mad
cat in the water, what was it?

Daddy Duck suddenly got sick of the whole thing. He made a frightful
noise with wing flapping on the water and quacking. B & C thought their
last moments had come. They jumped at least a metre into the air and
took off running. FSP didn't budge, she hadn't even noticed Daddy
Duck! Persians!

Bev
--
God may have created man before woman but there is always a rough draft
before the masterpiece.