Recently unegged, nine tiny chicks

deathly

still.

The grass swirls agitated about them.

Mink-coloured cheeks

sport coupe*         apache-stripes

painted

from beak to earhole.

One stripe runs through eye.

If they remain determined and forego

blinking

no predator will be alerted.

The indicating eye-shape

is camouflaged

-no white shows.

I have stood here for three minutes.

No peep

no fidget.

A fine example to an errant class

and all intrinsically instinctive

-never taught.

They lie in the shape of an anchor

and anchored they are

in the wind-churned, emerald eddy

Seven soft bodies form the anchor's shank

though they knuckle upward

as if plaited rope.

Then two chicks         the largest

form flukes

Their diapered-pudgy bottoms

are nuzzle-butted

against their siblings

their necks stretched execution-block-out.

Beaks pointed -west-east

the thumb

and little finger

of a teenaged hand signalling 'Yo - s'all O.K.'

Still

        no

movement.

One chick languishes kittenish

as if she has stretched and half rolled

then frozen

caught odalisque-lovely.

Mum and Dad

of course

erupted the moment I strayed too close.

They performed the broken wing ruse.

Didn't fool me

I am a veteran of many duckling seasons

and I am irrepressibly curious

wondering - how many, what condition, how large?

And I am besotted

by small, tender things.

So I stand here

being a bit of a bastard\/bitch, really

not wishing to move on

because the sight is so irresistibly charming.

But I will not touch

I will not         though I long

to do so

because they might be abandoned

and I couldn't bear it.

So I move on         reluctantly

because I have been selfish

long enough

and I should allow the return of the parents.

*A coupe has two doors - there are two stripes and I wanted a racing image.