Quack With Me

Today marks one year since we moved into Casa Hadfield. Having never moved house before (that's to say, my parents still live in the house I grew up in, and I don't count coming to Wellington clutching a bag of clothes and a food processor as 'moving') I didn't realise how horrendous it is, especially if you are doing it yourselves, (with the greatfully recieved help of Tim's dad) while it is pouring with rain, and your awful soon-to-be-ex-landlord is being sinister, not to mention the people at the house you are trying to move into left The World's Heaviest Beds behind which smash a window while you are dragging them out of the house and you have to pay to take them to the dump, and then get the horse float stuck in a woman's driveway for literally 3/4 of an hour...

Yes, it is no wonder that Team Hadfield looks back on this day with a shudder. But the reason this day really sucked unequivocally, was this: As we made our first trip of many, ferrying stuff to our new flat, we saw that one of the ducks that used to chill out in our courtyard had been hit by a car, and her partner was standing over her, folorn and helpless. He didn't move the entire day. Not only was it heartbreakingly sad - they mate for life, you know - but it was also portentious of what kind of day we had ahead.

So, in honour of the ducks, and as a way of marking the year spent here, Tim and I decided to, via Oxfam, buy three ducks which would be given to people in needy countries and, according to the website, can "eat insects and snails, helping farmers protect their fields. Eggs provide extra family nutrition and an income source." I'm not trying to schill for Oxfam here, or act smug for doing something charitable - but by all means check out the website.

Above: Did not actually take this picture - it's from Google Images.

Thank you ducks, for eating the bread that I threw out the window, for making our landlord's precious asphalt your toilet in what we took to be a sign of your defiance to him and allegiance with us, and for the very public sex you so often had that provided us with much hilarity. Gone but not forgotten.