Along the banks of Hazel Creek in Warragul, ducks are in the thick of breeding season.
While a time of love and nurture, it's also full of stupid; ducks are notorious for underestimating the power of a vehicle 2000 times its weight (I took one out myself recently when it flew straight into the undercarriage of my 4WD).
For the last couple of weeks, a drake skittled on Bowen St has been lying next to the creek walking track. While walking my dog of an evening, I've noticed its partner turn up to loiter quietly for 15 minutes or so, as if it's going to wake up again.
This has been happening every evening for the past week without fail. Common wisdom is that ducks mate for life.
Fair dinkum puller of the heart string.
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Among my browsings to confirm whether ducks in fact were monogamous, I instead discovered they were sexual psychopaths:
'He forcibly picked into the back, the base of the bill and mostly into the back of the head of the dead mallard for about two minutes, then mounted the corpse and started to copulate, with great force, almost continuously picking the side of the head.'
Never trust a duck.
Awh that's sad...
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