Flying decision: Nice weather for (buying) ducks

When Fiona loses control of her bidding arm at an auction she ends up going home with two new fluffy friends

It is one of those nights. A hard week’s work behind us. A few glasses of wine. Time to let some hair down. Which goes some way to explain the duck situation… To further expand. This is a charity auction we are attending – and one of the bids is for poultry. Yes, two lovely white ducks – one male and one female – are among the offerings. But these are not table-ready. These are real, live creatures – and they will need careful care.

Anyhow, I am not quite sure what happens, but I rather like the picture in the catalogue and I now have visions of the Good Life.

It could be that I am getting sentimental in old age. Maybe it is the thought of all those delicious cakes you can make with orange-yolked duck eggs.

Regardless, the Armstrong hand keeps going up – and up… And now the bid is final and I must pay and discuss when said creatures might be brought over to the house.

The whole thing causes much merriment on our table.

At 11 at night I am thrilled with my purchase and go to bed with great plans.

Perhaps we might go the whole hog and get some hens, too?

When morning dawns, of course, it becomes apparent that this venture is less Victoria sponge and more pie in the sky. Because a duck needs a duck house.

And a duck presumably needs a pond, or at the very least, some sort of water.

Then a duck can dig for Scotland. I am told it likes nothing better than to scratch up seedlings. And is partial to pulling the heads off favourite flowers.

There are the foxes to worry about. Yes, we do have them round here.

Then there are the MacNaughties. Can we really trust the territorial terrier and the silly spaniel not to chase our new feathered friends?

In the clear light of day, reality is dawning. Crucially, the chief is not happy at the thought of having more of God’s fluffy creatures to look after.

But the ducks are coming – so a solution must be found. And it may be there in the shape of the man who comes to fit a fireplace.

This week I explain the problem to Callum as he removes an old marble hearth to make way for a new one. With a smile he tells me not to worry. For Callum is a duck expert. He already has half-a-dozen of them

Crucially, the chief is not happy at the thought of having more of God’s fluffy creatures to look after

– so two more, he assures me, will be no problem. He promises to bring a crate to pick them up.

I want to throw my arms around the hero of the hour.

But I hardly know the man. So, unlike the charity auction, I manage to control myself.

And I comfort the chief with the fact that it could have been worse. I was originally bidding for two live pigs, but the bidding went too high…