Me and Bertie (my brother) darted and dodged about the field, Daddy chasing us, and not far behind. A gentle breeze swept the grass, and the sun sat low in the sky, watching us gleefully. We vaulted the stile, and ambled up the path, through the gate and past the minuscule car park. Ducks quacked and croaked in a throaty welcome as we ambled along the gravel path, surrounded by trees and bushy shrubs.
Bertie ran down to the first jetty, while we continued on, chatting merrily. The second jetty appeared round the slight corner and we strolled down to the edge. Mallards lined the far bank of the lake, and moorhens called from unknown locations. Gulls circled in the sky, and birdsong echoed from branch to branch. However, something didn’t seem quite right with the identification of a group of ducks out on open waters in the middle. They seemed too dark for mallards, but a certain ID could not be reached from our current position.
We continued on, with purpose in every pace, and me and Bertie, who had caught up a minute ago, ran the final few metres onto the next jetty. There was a better view here, and they were suspiciously unlike the usual crowd at Bradley Ponds. Three were black and white, the colours contrasting starkly. Two out of five, however, had the same build, but were a muddy shade of brown. And they all sported a tuft on the back of their heads, albeit the brown birds’ were almost indistinguishable.
These were none other than five Tufted Duck, and looked completely out of place on the mallard lined lake. It was a rare sight for these birds to appear here, and something I have never witnessed until now. Although, personally, I think Bradley has a bit of a reputation for turning out ducks that are rather uncommon in Bovey Tracey, such as Garganey and Goosander. Satisfied, we continued on our evening stroll as the sun dropped lower and lower. Eventually, we called it a night and set off for the field once again.
The Bovey Birder 