Adopting a Duck Years ago, when she had a herd
of Ayrshire cows, my grandmother lovingly bestowed upon her favourite milkers the names of her dearest friends. In the same way it was not uncommon for the brood sows to be given the names of people who did not exactly come under the category of friends. I was reminded of the habit of bestowing names on animals when I heard the children discussing names they might give to two ducks to be adopted under the Wild Fowl Trust scheme; they had each been given a card so that they could adopt a duck as a Christmas present, and were busy running through the names of friends and relatives. So far the two ducks have not been named. When they are, the cards will be sent off, and somewhere—on the Solway mud, the bogs of Ireland or up in the tundra—there will be two ducks with rings and numbers standing in the record books against the names of our choice. I had to explain this thoroughly. At first there was some confusion as to whether the ducks would be sent to us plucked and dressed, and whether we should eat them there and then or make some special occasion of it !
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