March of the ducklings is a real education

DUCKLINGS go to college? The sight of a troop of ducklings streaming in line after their mother through the gates of University College Cork had a definite, sentimental charm, but I saw it not so much as an endearing picture of “adorable, fluffy little creatures” seeking knowledge, as a testament to Nature’s unfailing geography of survival.

Ducks don’t do sentimentality, nor do they do book-learning; there is a hard rationale to their taking the UCC route from the Lough to the Lee. It is the shortest way and, once they reach the green acres of the campus, they are safe from traffic, although marauding cats might snaffle a few of the little quackers before they reach the banks of the river of legend and swim off to enjoy duck-life in the wide world.

We all know about the reprehensible and relentless gang-banging of ducks by drakes during the mating season. But ‘reprehensible’ is a judgmental term, and let us not be sentimental or anthropomorphic. Ducks are not people; they have different standards of conduct which has enabled them to survive in a quite different set of circumstances.