It was my wife’s uncle who knocked on my door that January morning in 1998. He had just been asked by the owner of a large manor house if he could remove some of the mallard that frequented the manor’s moat and ponds. The problem was that the essentially wild mallard often nested in the gardens in the spring, and then tended their broods on the manor’s fastidiously cared-for lawns and borders.
During the summer months, their droppings and gleaning habits would reduce parts of the manicured lawns to a contaminated quagmire, which seriously hampered the family’s croquet games. The new owners had tired of the ducks’ intrusions.
