We’d rescued a duckling, and treated it like one of the family. And now we couldn’t believe our eyes.
My husband Phil pulled his coat on, then headed for the door. ‘Right, love, I’m off fishing,’ he said.
He’d normally be out all day, so when he came home early, I immediately thought something was wrong.
Then I noticed he was clutching something under his jacket.
‘You’ll never guess what I’ve been up to,’ he said.
Then with a flourish, Phil revealed the little ball of fluff he’d been keeping warm. It was a day-old duckling. ‘Oh, poor little thing,’ I said. ‘I was by the pond for three hours trying to find its mum,’ Phil explained. ‘But she was nowhere.’
He knew if he left the chick there, it would die, so he’d scooped it up and brought it home.
‘I couldn’t live with myself if I’d abandoned it,’ he added.
I was happy he’d saved it, although slightly overwhelmed at my home becoming a sanctuary overnight.
But I loved animals, so we set about making our three-bed house duck-friendly for our new guest.
We affectionately named the duckling Fido, as we thought it was a boy.
However, when we’d had Fido for around five weeks we realised her feathers were female, and swiftly renamed her Freda.
We house-trained her and made sure she was well fed too, splashing out £40 a time on special grub.
She needed a lot of care and attention at first.
Phil and I took turns to sleep downstairs with her at night as she was scared of being alone.
‘You’re so demanding,’ I sighed, as Freda began screeching each time we left the room.
But while Phil had saved Freda, she became his guardian angel too.
He was going through agonising treatment for bladder cancer, and had three operations in quick succession.
While he recovered at home, Freda was constantly by his side, snoozing on his chest or sitting by his feet in front of the telly.
When he was on the computer, she would sit on his shoulder, taking a peek at the screen.
‘Look at you two, the best of friends,’ I said, chuckling.
We even installed a fibreglass fish pond in the garden, so Freda had somewhere to swim.
She became a treasured member of the family, but then one day, after hearing other ducks calling at our local lake, she suddenly flew away.
‘Well, it was nice to have her as long as we did,’ Phil said, sadly.
‘You never know, love, she might come back,’ I replied.
But weeks passed with no sign of Freda and all we could do was try to move on.
Then, six months later, I was taking the bins out at home in Castleford, West Yorkshire, when I saw a flash of feathers out of the corner of my eye.
Waddling up the drive towards me was Freda along with another d
