He moved slowly into the middle of the stream, feeling the slight increase in pull on his webbed feet from the stronger current. Reeds on both sides sheltered his progress from erratic wisps of Autumn winds.
He looked around him, not too casually, as he paddled along, making sure that there were no unfriendly creatures about. He’d had a nasty brush with a big brown and white barker last year because he hadn’t been on his guard when he was swimming along like this. That had been a lucky escape. The next occasion might not be so lucky, so it was best to be cautious.
He moved into midstream now, having left the reedy streamlet where he made his home. All this area is full of reeds now, he thought, great for camouflage, very marshy. I wonder does it have anything to do with that big false thing downriver. It certainly makes a lot of noise.
The water around him was gold speckled and he wondered did he look golden like that, too, when the Sun shone on him. He worried about it because it would make hiding very difficult if he shone like that. Still the Sun didn’t shine every day and when it did he could hide from it too, but it wouldn’t be very pleasant because he liked to be out in the Sun. It was warm and bright and it made everything thing he saw look more colourful and more cheerful than usual.
He felt the Sun’s heat fade from his back as he moved into the shadow of the great-sized trees that overhung the far bank and filtered the rays of the sun turning it into a cooler green dappled light. The water wasn’t golden or clear over here. It was dark and murky but it held the choicest and most tender bits of greenery and he knew it.
He was going to bring her back the nicest food he could find, to show her what a good mate she had got and to celebrate her first day on the river. Well on this stretch of it anyway.
He carefully selected the nicest pieces of vegetation he could find, stuffing his beak so much that he had to bend his head forward to see out over the top of it. He moved to the edge of the shade cast by the trees and carefully scanned the far bank and each end of the river, upstream and downstream and finally skyward.
Everything seemed calm, normal. Plenty of flies around and more importantly frogs to eat them. That was a good sign. Frogs were always the first to get out of the way at the first sign of trouble.
He paddled back out into the stretch of gold carpeted water again, more alert this time, realising that the burden in his beak would slow him down and hinder any sudden movements he might need to make. Finally he reached the reed-fronted entrance of the lazy little tributary where his home and mate were hidden.
About 20 yards up the little tongue of water he turned right abruptly and disappeared into the reeds following a twisty path that was just wide enough to allow him to swim past without touching the tall waving reeds that waved, acting too as his protector from any alert predatory eyes. He always followed this path even though it would be shorter to go directly to the nest, so as to avoid breaking or moving the reeds and create any telltale signposts to where his nest might be hidden.
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