![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhiannon_sLife on the Duck Pond
The ducks scattered on the pond, taking flight in a burst of splashing and quacking. There didn’t seem to be any particular reason that Janey could see, but such was life on the duck pond. Or, for Janey, life on its edge. Maybe it had been an unseen lurking pike, or eel, or even the distant sound of the 3.45 Air France flight to parts unknown that passed overhead. The ducks would soon be back, but for the moment it left the pond empty except for ripples and floating feathers.
A blue tit cautiously fluttered down to perch on the reeds which hung, all bent and twisted, from the bank. Cautiously the little bird shuffled down the reed and carefully snatched some unseen prize from the water’s surface before flitting off. A circular ripple of water appeared on the surface some distance out, which leant some credence to Janey’s theory of underwater life. The water was murky enough that she couldn’t see what, but she decided, based on no evidence whatsoever, that it had to have been a trout that had struggled over the overflow to the nearby river in the last spate.
Janey loved the pond, it was a little forgotten oasis of life and greenery in the heart of the town. Strictly speaking it shouldn’t exist at all, some thirty years ago one of the great industrial factories had collapsed along with its industry and the land parcelled up and sold off piecemeal. Whoever was supposed to have bought this bit had clearly forgotten out it. It existed as a pocket of ground that was all but impossible to get to. Just a patch of green, a pond, and an over flow stream, all hedged in by the sorts of businesses that existed in big metal sheds and who left their own employees haggard and drained as they shuffled into their cars at the end of each day. Janey herself worked for the company who administered the sheds, but only the capacity of a carpark attendant.
She’d spotted the pond through an tear in the chainlink fence in the back of one of the shed’s carparks, part hidden by willows and willowherb. In a minor abuse of power she’d convinced one of her friends in maintenance to book in a work crew to fit a small gate in the fence instead of fixing the torn chainlink, a similar minor abuse of power also led to an arrangement with the groundskeeping crew to close strim a path from the gate to the pond bank and a patch of mown sward left for seating. Janey never locked the gate, and she never made any attempt to hide it, but somehow apart from the wildlife it seemed she was the only one who used this little patch of peace.
There was rustle from the willows, followed rapidly by a patter of paws. A squirrel, sadly grey, had descended from its tree top home to investigate the possibility of food on the ground. Perhaps it was used to people feeding it somewhere else on the industrial estate and assumed that Janey would do the same. It was out of luck, aware of how precarious her position was in creating such a little piece of calm, Janey never brought or left food in order that no one would be able to accuse her of attracting vermin. Not that she would have minded seeing a water rat or vole, she’d been quietly dreaming of seeing one ever since reading Wind in the Willows when she was a little girl. A close encounter with Ratty or Badger would be her dream.
As suddenly as they had left the ducks descended from the sky back to the pond. Whatever had spooked them or drawn them off had obviously departed. Or perhaps not, since they had barely landed when they were off again. The squirrel which had been quietly investigating further and further from willow tree froze, seemingly torn between trying to decide whether to dart back up the tree or take refuge in the thicket of dog roses, then decided to head for the tree instead. Janey’s phone alarm bleeped urgently, distracting her from the scene of urgent pondside life and calling her back to the working world. Lunch break over. As she headed back to the small gate in the fence which separate tedium from magic, she glanced back and saw a long sinuous form issue from one of the reed banks and out into the pond. She smiled, she might not have seen Ratty or Badger yet, but she could cross Tarka off her list of animals now.
The ducks scattered on the pond, taking flight in a burst of splashing and quacking. There didn’t seem to be any particular reason that Janey could see, but such was life on the duck pond. Or, for Janey, life on its edge. Maybe it had been an unseen lurking pike, or eel, or even the distant sound of the 3.45 Air France flight to parts unknown that passed overhead. The ducks would soon be back, but for the moment it left the pond empty except for ripples and floating feathers.
A blue tit cautiously fluttered down to perch on the reeds which hung, all bent and twisted, from the bank. Cautiously the little bird shuffled down the reed and carefully snatched some unseen prize from the water’s surface before flitting off. A circular ripple of water appeared on the surface some distance out, which leant some credence to Janey’s theory of underwater life. The water was murky enough that she couldn’t see what, but she decided, based on no evidence whatsoever, that it had to have been a trout that had struggled over the overflow to the nearby river in the last spate.
Janey loved the pond, it was a little forgotten oasis of life and greenery in the heart of the town. Strictly speaking it shouldn’t exist at all, some thirty years ago one of the great industrial factories had collapsed along with its industry and the land parcelled up and sold off piecemeal. Whoever was supposed to have bought this bit had clearly forgotten out it. It existed as a pocket of ground that was all but impossible to get to. Just a patch of green, a pond, and an over flow stream, all hedged in by the sorts of businesses that existed in big metal sheds and who left their own employees haggard and drained as they shuffled into their cars at the end of each day. Janey herself worked for the company who administered the sheds, but only the capacity of a carpark attendant.
She’d spotted the pond through an tear in the chainlink fence in the back of one of the shed’s carparks, part hidden by willows and willowherb. In a minor abuse of power she’d convinced one of her friends in maintenance to book in a work crew to fit a small gate in the fence instead of fixing the torn chainlink, a similar minor abuse of power also led to an arrangement with the groundskeeping crew to close strim a path from the gate to the pond bank and a patch of mown sward left for seating. Janey never locked the gate, and she never made any attempt to hide it, but somehow apart from the wildlife it seemed she was the only one who used this little patch of peace.
There was rustle from the willows, followed rapidly by a patter of paws. A squirrel, sadly grey, had descended from its tree top home to investigate the possibility of food on the ground. Perhaps it was used to people feeding it somewhere else on the industrial estate and assumed that Janey would do the same. It was out of luck, aware of how precarious her position was in creating such a little piece of calm, Janey never brought or left food in order that no one would be able to accuse her of attracting vermin. Not that she would have minded seeing a water rat or vole, she’d been quietly dreaming of seeing one ever since reading Wind in the Willows when she was a little girl. A close encounter with Ratty or Badger would be her dream.
As suddenly as they had left the ducks descended from the sky back to the pond. Whatever had spooked them or drawn them off had obviously departed. Or perhaps not, since they had barely landed when they were off again. The squirrel which had been quietly investigating further and further from willow tree froze, seemingly torn between trying to decide whether to dart back up the tree or take refuge in the thicket of dog roses, then decided to head for the tree instead. Janey’s phone alarm bleeped urgently, distracting her from the scene of urgent pondside life and calling her back to the working world. Lunch break over. As she headed back to the small gate in the fence which separate tedium from magic, she glanced back and saw a long sinuous form issue from one of the reed banks and out into the pond. She smiled, she might not have seen Ratty or Badger yet, but she could cross Tarka off her list of animals now.
