Rest in Peace little Pi.
In the blink of an eye life becomes death. It is times like these that remind me how precious moments, and memories, are. It’s a reminder to take the time, to savour the times with those around me.
Thursday, last week, was spent as normal. In the garden, breaking tiles, working on wattle hedge fencing to stop Houdini Maggie from getting into next doors garden, and managing brooding duck fights and antics. A normal spring day here. Amongst all of it was little Pi following me around in her normal talkative, puppy dog way.
I would hear her chattering away to herself, or calling out to me, asking me if I had found any worms yet. Sitting breaking tiles, I would look over to see her head bobbing above the patio’s stone edging, seeing if I was unearthing worms. In her mind, I was always hunting worms specifically for her. It was very obviously my raison d’etre (reason) in life.
All was normal.
Dawn, Friday morning, time to release the ducks from their bedroom. It was quieter than normal. Typically, the minute I fill the water bucket there is a yell from little Pi to say ‘good morning!’. Then the others chime in as they here my footsteps on the gravel of the courtyard.
Opening the door found Maggie now nesting in her cat carrier, with her two fellows sitting quietly in attendance. There was one explanation. I had a quiet little ‘pup, pup, pup’ greeting from Louis. All was well here.
Beepbeep, Sir Studly and Pi were ready to come out, though not quite so exuberantly as usual. I opened the door of the barn to the garden and, per usual, opened the duck enclosure, put fresh water in water bowls and a head of lettuce by the sunken duck pond, ready for breakfast. By this time Studly and his harem have flown or waddled down to the enclosure.
I looked up and they were all still in the barn. Something was wrong.
Pi was simply standing in the middle of the barn, not making any noise. I picked her up and ushered the others down to the enclosure. A quick check of her, but I could see nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, I could tell little Pi was not herself. Now, this has happened before and it usually precludes her laying an egg.
You see, Pi is tiny. She’s about my hand length. And she struggles with laying eggs. Her eggs are smaller than the others, but still quite big for such a little duck. It seems this day was to be her last struggle. The egg she laid was broken, and I think, possibly, it left some shell inside her.
As the day wore on she very obviously became quieter and less Pi like. We spent a peaceful afternoon sat in a sunlit Cafe du Canard with her cuddling on my chest. That was when I knew she was going to leave us. Her independent and typical teenage spirit was not one for cuddling. I soaked up the moment with all my heart.
Ducks are very much a survival of the fittest breed, whether I like it or not. In hindsight, little Pi was not ever meant to be long in this world. Her size precluded that life would never be fair to her. Mother nature can be cruel, but the flip kindness was she gave me little Pi for a period of time. And I will treasure every moment, every memory, whether it brings tears or laughter, that I had with her.
We buried her under the transplanted violets, her forever bed, and herself, strewn with these little flowers.
In memory of our little Pi.