Nature, red in tooth and claw is very much in evidence on the lakes at Lydiard, and I'm grateful I am not a mother of chicks.
During the Coronavirus lockdown it has been my habit to take an early morning walk through Lydiard Park. I have watched cowslips appear in the churchyard at St Mary's, the wild garlic blossom and the bluebells bob and dance. Red and white campion grow densely down to the waters edge where nature's progress takes little heed of Covid 19.
The medieval lake was once a lot more than an ornamental water feature, providing fish for the table. Perfectly camouflaged it provides the water fowl in Lydiard Park a perfect des res in which to nest and raise their young before making an appearance on the 18th century showpiece lake.
An Armada of ducklings sail across the water's surface, appearing as a mere blur in my photographs and in recent weeks I have eagerly awaited the emergence of the swans from their island hideway.
The only breeding pair of Canada geese were the first to appear on the lakeside, their gaggle of five goslings fast learning how to graze. Then at last the swans appeared, the parents like two majestic galleons, escorting their five cygnets up and down the watery promenade.
But in less than a week the death toll is high. The fast moving ducklings are already down by at least two. And the geese, oh the poor geese. First three goslings gone, then another and today the parents have just one left. And even the cygnet family, guarded so carefully by their tenacious parents, have suffered a loss.
Perhaps it is the heightened emotion of these strange times in which we live, but the plight of these poor parent birds is heartbreaking. I'm glad I'm not a fowl mother (although my own chicks might not agree).
