For a few years we have had two regular visitors to the pier. Every morning and every afternoon, at about 5pm i paperi, the ducks fly into town from a not so distant valley. They land on the beach not far from the pier, ruffle their feathers into place, take a quick look around to see that everything is as it should be and then they set to work.
Mrs Duck lets out a quaaaack and bustles off towards the pier with her husband close behind. He follows her dutifully, although if I were him I would hang my head in embarrasment at my wifes performance.
For it truly is a performance. If nobody comes to greet these ducks with a food offering, Mrs Duck gets very unhappy. She waddles over to the pier, quacking loudly and picks out one of the boat boys to harass. The other day she chose Gigino and we watched delighted as Mrs Duck chased him angrily around the pier, quacking loudly at the top of her voice, trailed by her ever faithful husband, until Gigino surrendered and ran to the nearest bar for some slices of bread.Once the ducks have been fed they calm down and wander around the pier, nodding their heads at everybody and quacking quietly together. Sometimes they go for a swim on the sea, happily bobbing along with the rythym of the waves.
A few years ago they had babies, but were devestatedd when the seagulls got them all. The next year the locals kept watch and as soon as Mrs Duck layed her eggs a shelter was built around the nest on the beach and guarded carefully night and day. How lovely it was one day to see Mr and Mrs Duck arrive on the pier with a whole gaggle of ducklings! Of course the young'uns grew up and moved away, as young'uns tend to do, but Mr and Mrs Duck still bring a smile to everyones faces when they land on the pier each day.