Sunday, 30 April 2017

0530 and the Duck chorus

A busy week, the 'highlight' being the descent of the Wigan flight of 21 locks.  Luckily we teamed up with 'Perriwinkle' the cheese boat to do the descent.  By 'cheese boat' I mean they sell cheese |(they're not actually made of it).  This was their 35th transit of the locks and so we had good local knowlege.  Its quite pretty for most of the flight, only the bit in the middle, near the town being rather decrepit.  After that we slowed down again stopping various spots away from habitation if possible.  That said, we have just somehow managed to moor near one building now - strangely, its a pub and it does Sunday lunch - hoorah!!!  Liverpool on Wednesday which should be fun if all the accounts we've had so far are true.

Us and Perriwinkle the Cheese Boat half way down Wigan

Now on to Ducks.  Most people think they are rather cute and are only there so we can take the grandkids along to throw mouldy bread at them. 
The are the Devil's spawn, creatures from the black pit, monsters of the deep, foul creatures of the night, sadistic torturers of honest boating folk.  How do I know this? - read on.
They regularly peck the waterline of the boat at any time of the day or night and even jump on the roof and stomp along wearing what seems like size ten, hob nail boots.
In Riley Green we saw four males trying to shag one poor girl duck, she wasn't interested but it didn't stop them fighting her and each other.
In Adlington, we saw four males (not the same ones) having a fight just for the sake of it and then doing the same again right by our bedroom at four in the morning.
But in Burscough at five thirty in the morning or thereabouts, one started quacking.  So what? I hear you ask. IT WOULDN'T BLOODY STOP.  No that's not true it would and then just as I was dozing off it started again.  It was a calm night and the sodding animal was right by the boat.  What to do?  How do you get a Duck to shut up?  So at 0530 there I was at the back of the boat in my dressing gown trying to spot the offending little feathered bugger and wondering what to do.  An air rifle would have been good but I don't have one (yet).  Then a brainwave.  I scuttled back in the boat and returned armed with the only thing to hand that I could throw.  No, not the dog but several lumps of coal.  My aim was crap, after all I was still half asleep but I got the sadistic swine to swim away and quack at one of the other boats.  I must have looked pretty silly chucking coal into the canal at dawn but at least I managed to get back to sleep.
I just wonder what they have in store next.............................................

Cute and friendly - don't you believe it.

See - they even train their children to peck boats from an early age!!

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