Someone has dumped a little shoal of pinkish-orange goldfish in one of the ponds on the common. They appear to have taking a liking to a particular mallard, very possibly because they think his orange feet are a big chief goldfish.
They were following him around in a neat line, twisting and turning in the water as he slalomed across to the other side. I wondered if he would begin to find it a bit irritating having such devoted followers: everywhere he goes, ten little fish will be there too. And what happens when he clambers out on to the bank?
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