DAFFY DUCKS

Further to the black swans, I didn’t note that Liz and I caught sight of an oddly-shaped bird on the river that we couldn’t see clearly because it was backlit and not close to shore. Larger than most ducks, and with a long low silhouette, its head seemed to be pulled into its back. Its profile didn’t resemble any bird I could think of. Paging through the bird books a few days ago I came across the Musk Duck (Biziura lobata) and suspect that’s what we were watching swim quite swiftly downriver. Watts mentions Musk ducks can be seen on the Derwent at Bridgewater, which was more or less where we were, and that they frequently sit low in the water.

Later that Sunday Irene and Kevin drove me to Kingston, on the Derwent some distance south of Hobart, where there’s a beautiful beach. We followed the road that hugs the coast, a wonderful road to drive if you like driving since it’s an (often tight) succession of bends and curves and hills. If you’re inclined to car-sickness, however, it wouldn’t be such fun. I found myself thinking as we swooped and shifted directions that the drive might be the closest I’d ever get to experiencing the fractal nature of coastlines.

Stretches of that road afford lovely views of the river growing wider and wider, as well as hills on the far side; at other times you see houses set in fine gardens. The weather had grown overcast since the morning with rain threatening and occasionally falling. When we reached Kingston we stopped at a park alongside a small river to see the ducks. Gulls perched on the fence and a crowd of mallards was hunkered down on the grass—though I had trouble deciding if in fact some of them were mallards. Several had white or beige heads and white scattered through their plumage—perhaps good examples of what at home we call “daffy ducks,” mallard-domestic duck crosses.

Mixed in with the mallards were some further anomalies: several lovely ducks with plumage much like the mallard female’s, but they had a dark eye-stripe with paler stripes above and below it. Checking the bird books at home we realized we’d seen Black ducks. And a smaller duck with an elegant profile, richly brown head, and grey body with speckles on its chest turned out to be an Australian wood duck.

From the park we made our way along the beach road. It had started to rain and the gorgeous stretch of sand was empty except for a few gulls. Waves were rolling in. Out the other window of the car we could see lovely seafront houses in pretty yards—perfect places for a beach holiday, though perhaps slightly out of season would be the best time to be there. To get back to Hobart we drove the highway—much faster, but not nearly as interesting or pretty.