Since we moved south, Big G has taken up pyromania-slash-woodchoppping as his third hobby (annoying me and watching rugby still being numbers one and two). Basically, he disappears into the fields in the early hours and sets fire to or chops down anything that isn't green or doesn't move, leaving patches of blackened grass and wood in his wake. He usually manages to control ten or so fires at a time - a clever task for any man, but then its not really multi-tasking if you're only repeating the same action x10 is i? He doesn't generally require my help either, wanting to pursue his new favourite pastime in solitary.
Last Sunday however, I received a strange phone call that went something along the lines of...
"Hello?"
"Can you come over and bring the fire rake and the camera?" he says.
"???" I looked out the window. Big G had lit a fire near one of the dead trees and it was getting out of control. Smoke was billowing across the valley, hence the need for the fire rake.
"Why do you need the camera?" I ask. Surely, he hasn't gone that mental that he wants to take pics of the house burning down. You can get medication for that.
"We have tree ducks," he replies.
Okay. So now I know he's lost it. Ducks do not sit in trees. They have webbed feet that are only good for sitting on grass and pond weed.
Worried that we may require a trip to Graylands (nut house) I wandered over with both the requested implements.
To cut a long story short, he wasn't crazy. There WERE ducks sitting in the tree, though how they managed to cling on with their little webbed feet beats me. Needless to say the tree isn't being chopped or burnt down now. Its a sanctuary for the tree ducks.
The pic below shows the tree but not the ducks... I went to find them this morning but they were gone. But they WERE real. Really they were. :)
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