Feathery noise machines (Duck duck go. Please, go.)
>Living at the end of a river can be quite blissful. Opening the patio doors that overlook the water’s edge on a Summer afternoon is lovely.
For some reason, though, the past few nights have seen a group of ducks take over the river. They are loud and prone to making as much noise as possible at all times of the day or night.
They have a tendency to dive into the water when it’s dark, rather than glide in as they seem to do during the day, meaning that every hour or so there is a loud splash followed by what I can only describe as a chorus of duck laughter as all of the other feathery noise machines get involved.
Maybe I’m not sleeping well. Maybe I’m projecting anger about other issues onto the poor ducks that are merely having fun outside the window. Or maybe they are really just secret geniuses who have colluded to disrupt my sleep pattern.
As you can tell, I’ve no problem with them during the day. It’s the night noise that tends to dance on my last few nerves.
It also strikes me as uncoincidental that these plum-and-pancake accompanying starters have appeared merely a couple of weeks after our local paper urged Chelmsfordians to save 3,000 ducks that were threatened with the chop (and no, I’m not kidding. Chelmsford is a hive of news some weeks)
I’m tempted to start leaving Chinese menus near the bank of the river, callously left open at the list of starters. I may even highlight the duck-based starters as a warning.
If that fails to work, then I will go full on Godfather. The ducks will wake up one morning and find one of their cousins, cooked, crispy, shredded and half-eaten, laying alongside the rest of the family.
Until then, I may just start closing my bedroom windows at night.