Then the new clutches are safely raised and join the parent flock and one day in summer it is suddenly almost impossible to tell the drakes from the hens.
I followed the course of a stream to a farm, formerly a delightful walk of mine, and paused at the spot, where, when boys, we used to amuse ourselves making ducks and drakes upon the water.
Now and then in the night they burst into an uproar and I know that some small animal trespasser is going by. Sometimes the commotion, I know, comes when one of the drakes is having a nocturnal amorous moment.