Mrs Down's Diary

The goslings and the Aylesbury ducklings are now free to roam the paddock; the ducklings under the eye of the anxious banties that hatched them out. Perhaps it is the lack of a parental guard that attracts the wild gander. Planning a wild night out with a young gosling. Tut tut.

In the big shed our mallard ducklings have nearly all gone out on to ponds.

Their growth rate was amazing. We had kept increasing the space available to them and before we went away assumed we had left them more than enough legroom/webbedfootroom to expand into.

Apparently not. Friends looking after them increased their pen space even further until the bulls started looking worried that they might be sharing their yards with a duck or two/three thousand.

Problems can arise if ducks start to feather-peck each other, so to nip that in the bud '“ or quill '“ they were moved at an earlier stage. To the ducks' delight. Much as they enjoyed creating an almighty mess in their water drinkers, it is so much more fun in a pond.

Ducks are amazing at pond creation. Our Aylesbury ducklings have already started redesigning any puddles and wet spots in their paddock. Even though they have a pond already available to them, any accessible wet spot inspires them into bigger, deeper and even wetter mode.

So, back to reality. Brother-in-law Geoff had done a sterling job in farm care while we were away, and the dogs and the house were in the safe hands of a friend, Claude.

He is still not back in his own house following last year's floods. A tale of frustration, dilatory loss adjusters and builders.

Claude's dog formed a great friendship with our four, or three of them anyway. Nell the sheepdog is never too sure of any dog, or person, outside of her immediate ken.

Claude and Geoff had been keeping a watchful eye on an old Friesian cow that was due to calve.

As soon as we were home, John was checking up on her. She had taken herself off from the rest of the herd and was hidden under a tree, way inland. She had bagged up and was circling a chosen patch of grass; birth imminent John decided.

Unhappily, a couple of hours later she delivered a dead calf. Such is life. Or death in this case. Today we noticed another calf suckling from her, so the milk will not go to waste. The cow is one of the oldest in the herd and this was to be her last calving but it would have been great for her to rear her own calf this summer.

Being back in the midst of livestock has been a culture change after the past 10 days.

We have been staying in a friend's beautiful house on Exuma, an island in the Bahamas. Fantastic blue seas. Amazing white sands. Exciting fishing and snorkelling. Want to go back. Did not want to leave. Nearly didn't as Bahamasair was late in delivering us to our connecting flight.

The flight desk had closed and the plane for Heathrow ready for take-off. I can only admit to a fit of histrionics and tears with the airport manager in Nassau, who was an absolute gem and persuaded the pilot to let us on the plane. Still can't decide whether that was a good thing or not.

This feature first appeared in the West Sussex Gazette June 25 2008