"Oh no! No! Stop it! That one nearly hit me." Delilah tried her best to duck the attack of sticks and stones, turning and weaving every which way to avoid them. But finally, a stone scored a direct hit, and it hurt. She was unable to fly, but her stubby legs and broad webbed feet powered her quickly through the water. As far away as I can from those dreadful smalls, she thought. And I imagined they were going to feed me.

Delilah wuk-wuked sadly to herself remembering that day - and her fear and pain. A whole year ago, but she hadn't been able to forget her shock and outrage. She couldn't fly for over a week, and it was SO hard being content with the briefest of paddles. Her pain had worsened when they had laughed cruelly at her. Laughed! With their weird "haw, haw, haw" noise. She couldn't help a loud and resentful "WUK, WUK" at the thought of them!

Today when she first saw the new humans in the third shack on the waterfront, she'd had a panicky moment or two. "Great Duck of All Waters," she'd prayed. "Don't let it be them come back again. Please... not again." And her prayer was answered. They were all brand new humans this time. All of them friendly and kind - the talls as well as the smalls. She wucked happily to herself. They seemed quite duckish, actually.

Delilah Duck was delighted. She visited Cooringie Lake each season, timing her arrival for the 'Man' time of year. How clever they are to know the best times here, she thought. I wonder what they love best? Bug breakfasts, snail snacks, fly feasts? Maybe mosquito munch-outs most of all?

Delilah didn't care about other ducks calling her 'dizzy' and sniggering in their beaks behind her back because she trusted humans. I don't give a worm what they think! If they're too bird-brained to understand that these humans love feeding ducks all kinds of tempting treats... well that's just their muddy luck! Delilah paddled around and around in tight, cross little circles.

I've told them often enough, she thought, as she remembered trying to entice the other ducks with a tiny share. But they wouldn't take any. Yellow-bellied cowards. And so they missed out on all that dry white fluffy stuff that duckish humans always threw to them. And they missed out on the delicious mush it made, rolled around in the beak with a goodly shloop of water.

There was no way a simple duck like Delilah, suffering the typical condition of ducks everywhere - namely greed - could possibly appreciate that man-made foods were totally inappropriate for ducks. Even deadly, it had been discovered - causing some ducks in intemperate climates to stay on longer than their migration laws dictated, finally perishing from the extreme cold they were meant to escape. Other poor souls were victims of the dread FFSS (Forgotten Feeding Skills Syndrome).

She "wuked" quietly with happiness. I know I'm being fearfully greedy, but I do hope the new smalls give me more. As she absent-mindedly picked at the grassy bank in case the odd worm might pop his juicy little head or tail out, the smalls were suddenly back again.

They have that funny thing with them again, Delilah thought. The one they kept filling up with sand and turning upside down to make clever shapes. She couldn't work that one out yet, but there would be the whole season ahead to consider it. But what is this? They're calling me and throwing something. For a horrible moment she panicked. It wasn't a white something... in fact, it looked brown and hard, like a stone. No... please... not a stone! She started to back-paddle just as one landed right alongside her. Habit made her quickly swipe it with her beak, but she was smart enough to roll it around her mouth a few times to check it. Wait a minute... it's not a stone at all. It's a... a... snail.Oh, joy and duck delights!

She was so surprised, she dropped it, but a graceful duck-dive rescued the juicy morsel before it could sink too deep. Oh bliss. What flavour. What fantastic smalls they are. And there came another snail – and another! Delilah felt embarrassed by her disgusting greed, but she couldn't help herself, until finally she absolutely couldn't fit anymore. Not even a baby snail. Not even a chip off a shell. She tried to tell the smalls how wonderful her feast had been, and how grateful she was, but she wasn't sure if they understood.

Ohh my tummy! It's protesting loudly. No way I could possibly fly for a while now. I'd never achieve lift-off with this load! There was only one answer - a long, steady swim far out into the lake... but not too vigorously. Many paddles later, her short legs felt ready to drop off and she didn't have a "WUK" left in her. Delilah rested, gently bobbing up and down on the wavelets. Oh this is lovely, she thought as she settled her feathers down for a duck-nap.

She dreamed she heard a deep, interesting-sounding "WUK, WUK". The dream felt so real, she woke and peeked carefully through one eye, just in case... and suddenly came fully awake. Right in front of her, studying her with deep concentration, was the most handsome drake Delilah had ever seen. Gorgeous, she thought. Look at those eyes. So dark and compelling... and they look like he's really interested in me. Ohh... I think he's actually making duck-eyes at me! Delilah ducked her head in sudden shyness.

For a time they paddled around each other, saying "WUK, WUK" softly and politely - learning the sight and sound and smell of each other. Then the handsome drake spoke, in a deep, wonderfully smooth voice and Delilah felt truly dizzy.

"Good afternoon, my dear. Do you come here often?"

"Uhhm yes. Every season, actually. But I don't believe I've met you before?"

"Oh no my dear. I would certainly remember such a charming face." He smiled, and Delilah ducked her head shyly again. Suddenly his face changed to an expression of disgust.

"How beastly of me," he said. "What a worm. Unforgivable manners. I haven't even introduced myself." And he did two duck-dips before her, to show his respect. "Sampson Duck at your service, dear lady."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Delilah."

"Delilah! What a perfect name for a perfectly lovely lady. May I swim alongside you while you tell me all about yourself?" And Sampson politely back-paddled a little, to give her the choice of leaving him behind if she preferred. But Delilah mirrored his movement and continued to swim by his side.

"Shall we go back to the waterfront? I have many friends there."

"Anything your heart desires, my dear." Then he frowned. "But not too close."

Delilah couldn't understand the 'not too close' business, but she duck-shrugged the thought away. I will get to know everything about this fine fellow in time. I know I will. And her heart beat a little faster with anticipation.

As they paddled along Delilah chattered happily about the farm dam where she spent winter; of its marvellously muddy banks, rich in worm supplies. "My pantry," she called it. And the large swamp filled with mysterious and protective tall grasses and reeds, "... so safe. Such a welcome home when the winds blow strongly and the coldest, darkest nights come down."

And she told Sampson of the great gum tree growing alongside the dam - "my friendly giant, rustling in the wind. What a welcome landmark he is from long flying distances away." And the special humans living there who never harmed any birds - who seemed to actually welcome feathered visitors. Suddenly, Delilah realised that Sampson had slowed slightly, dropping several paddles behind. He had become quiet again, frowning again. Oh dear, have I been talking too much? Delilah felt worried. Gently she said, "Sampson? I'm sorry. Am I boring you?"

Sampson gave a slight shake of his feathers, as if bringing himself out of a duck-dream. As if he had indeed been bored, and nearly gone to sleep. But no. What he said was, "No, no, my dear. Please continue. I find this all very... interesting!"

Delilah wasn't convinced but thought it best to change the subject, describing instead the delights of the small beach they were heading towards and her marvellous new human friends. Again she chattered on, her eyes fixed on the distant shore. As she stole another glance at Sampson, she stopped abruptly, back-paddling on the spot. His frown was so deep it was as if his head could split in two. And his eyes! Blacker than midnight, gleaming angrily.

"Sampson! What IS the matter?" Delilah's heart thudded almost painfully in sudden doubt. I don't know him very well at all yet. He could have a really violent temper... or anything. Delilah shivered, and her quills quivered as a tremor ran through them, right out to the tips of her wing feathers. This looks bad, she thought. Out loud, she said again, "Sampson? Please tell me."

"It's humans, Delilah! Humans! That's what's the matter," growled Sampson. "They are the most terrible creatures on Earth. And you talk about kindness... and friendship?" He harrumphed loudly several times in disgust. "I can't believe you, Delilah. Don't you know yet that humans are our enemies?" And he shuddered all over, as if from an electric shock.

"Enemies, Sampson? No. You're wrong. Some small humans are silly and thoughtless, even cruel sometimes, but all the others I've met have been good to me." Delilah wasn't sure which was worse, her confusion or her distress. "I don't understand. Why do you hate them so?"

"Very well, dear lady. I'll tell you. But I fear it will offend your delicate senses," he said grimly. "Am I to understand you do not know about the duck shooting season?"

"Duck shooting?" Another wave of alarm flowed through her body. This doesn't sound too healthy, she thought, and swam a few tight, agitated circles around Sampson.

"Oh dear me, Delilah. Your education has been neglected rather badly, I'm afraid." The deepest sadness Delilah had ever seen in a duck's eyes now replaced the anger she'd witnessed moments ago.

"Duck shooting season happens once a year when Man decides the duck population needs pruning. Humans gather in large numbers in many places, and from the first weak light of dawn on a certain day, they turn peaceful lakes into killing fields. The rest of the year they pretend these are bird sanctuaries."

"Some die quickly," he continued, "... like my third cousin, Rupert, who simply exploded in a whirlwind of feathers. Others disappear in the confusion, never to be heard from again. My great uncle Archibald was not so fortunate. He had a leg shot completely off, plus serious damage to one wing. Sadly, his survival was so badly affected he eventually became a fox's supper." Sampson laid his head back along his side, and brushed away a tear.

Delilah needed to duck her head completely underwater to wash away her tears. When she felt a little calmer, she glided alongside Sampson to comfort him, gently nuzzling her beak in under his wing feathers. The slight quiver through them showed Delilah her small, kindly duck nibbles were giving him goose bumps, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

"Poor Sampson. I am so sorry for you and your sad times. I see why you feel that way towards humans," and Sampson nodded sadly in agreement. "... but you're wrong when you say that makes ALL humans our enemies. And I'll prove it to you!" Without another 'wuk', she suddenly surged ahead. Sampson was left bobbing up and down over the small waves she caused. With a shock, he realised they were much closer to the end of one of the small jetties than he preferred. He'd been so involved in memories of long-lost relatives, he hadn't noticed how near they'd come to those dreaded humans.

Sampson was deeply distressed. "WUK WUK," he said. "WUK-WUK-WUK. Come back Delilah. Danger! Danger!" But Delilah swam directly to the water's edge where two smalls were hopping around excitedly. To his horror, Sampson saw two talls stood there as well. His distress caused him to puff up his feathers, and his quivering caused small ripples to surround him.

Of course, Delilah didn't know the talls had learned about the dangers of white stuff, and initially she was deeply disappointed... until she saw they were carrying small buckets of snails. Sampson's worry turned to amazement as he saw both the smalls and the talls throwing Delilah one snail after another. He couldn't help admiring her skillful capture of many as they flew through the air. And her graceful duck-dives for the morsels that plopped into the water.

"WUK WUK?" said Sampson.

Delilah confidently turned her back on the humans and joyously swam towards him, carrying some snails in her beak. With eyelids fluttering, she dropped a couple in front of him, saying, "Try them Sampson. Quickly, or you'll lose them in the bottom mud. You'll see how wonderful they are. You will believe what kind humans these are."

Suspiciously, Sampson nuzzled one, then carefully rolled it around in his mouth, until finally he couldn't help himself and he munched up the whole lot. Oh... there was no doubt about it. This was great.

"Come on Sampson. Don't be chicken! Come closer with me," said Delilah cheekily.

"Harrumph" said Sampson. And he thought to himself, chicken? No self-respecting duck could overlook a challenge like that. He shook every feather into smoothest place, lifted his head high, almost swan-like, and though his heart thumped loudly, Sampson swam bravely towards the humans.

Plip! Plop! Plunk! Snails rained down in a torrent. Almost too much to cope with really, but with Delilah at his side, they dined lavishly, in high style. Sampson kept a careful eye on the humans, still fearing an evil 'gun' thing might appear, but it never happened. These humans were indeed kind. Perhaps Delilah is right. Perhaps only some humans are enemies. This was a tremendous thought for a duck of Sampson's experience to accept, but it did seem to be true.

Finally, with stomachs almost uncomfortably full, Delilah and Sampson lazily paddled away. Delilah could see the confusion of happiness, contentment AND amazement in Sampson's eyes, and she was delighted. I'm SO proud of my humans. They behaved so well towards him. He'll soon accept the smalls and the talls as friends. I just know it.

Delilah was a clever duck. She knew the exact place for Sampson to feel safe while he sorted through this new knowledge. My favourite place, she thought. Within hearing distance of human voices so he can get used to them. Delilah's happiness grew as she led Sampson to the reedy island across the water—a safe place for all birds. Even if humans came around in boats, they couldn't land. They couldn't walk through the swampy ground and tall grasses. Best of all, no horrid nasties like foxes could swim the distance from the mainland. Mm-m-m... it's like a dream come true. Safety and shelter and the best of friends around you. Sampson is going to love my corner of the world.

Delilah had one more secret. On the far side of the island lived the Reverend Christopher Duck - a kindly old minister who specialised in memorable weddings and charming christenings.

Delilah Duck WAS delighted!