ducks at the ex-island

No photo this time as my blog is about dusk - My friend and I sat at the riverbank and watched the ducks' confusion as they swam and flew about the sad few tufts and stones that still stick out of the river where the island has been (the digging hasn't yet completely finished). The saddest of all was the fact that there was only a single duckling among them. Just the one. Its mum was leading it here and there around the place where presumably their nest would have been, but the river was flowing over it and so the whole effort was futile. My companion remarked how last year we watched from the same place whole families - trains of 6-9 ducklings each following their mums into the tall grasses of the island of an evening.
We also saw tonight the pair of ex-resident wagtails, also confused. Only the local blackbird sat atop the church spire singing his heart out as if nothing was amiss :-)

We then went upstream and saw not a single duckling, let alone a family of ducklings anywhere. Might be able to take some photos tomorrow when it's daylight, but for now I just had to write down what I saw. Oh, well, maybe I am being sentimental, maybe this is such a small thing in the whole scheme of things and the world of course goes on - but I have to say that my blood boils. After all it's the little things that, put together, make the world what it is. And by our interfering with it we all carry the responsibility for changing it for better or worse, aren't we. I am so sorry we failed in our efforts to save the island, really am.