Duckton Abbey, A New Era – Gone Astray Podcast

It is mahvalous, it reeks of romance, drama and juicy gossip…this place called Duckton Abbey. It is located in a pond, in the leafy green plaza of the town where I live. We paid a visit last year. But now, it is summer and a New Era has dawned at Duckton Abbey.

It was winter the last time we checked in, but now the gladiolas of summer have burst open and most of Duckton’s residents have retreated to the greensward. The Abbey is practically empty except for a few tiny, nonthreatening turtles, just trying to keep their noses above water, a small gaggle of lesser geese and a waddle of scullery ducks who stay behind to mind the pond under the watchful eye of its majordomo, the old tufted duck Nigel, who bobs his wispy white pompadour in approval or scorn.

The Old Coots, the ruling toffs, have taken up summer residence on the golf course, boring each other with endless stories about their migrations to exotic places and showing off their buckshot wounds.

The old drake Sir Francis, is off on another journey of questionable intent and value.

The others have gathered in small groups, gossiping and dodging croquet balls. The mallards look studly no more. They have molted and lost their iridescent crowns. They have become too lethargic to preen and they stumble about quacking loudly while seeking out discarded beer cans. In contrast, their hens are proudly parading their queues of ducklings, training them in pond etiquette and breaking up squabbles before feathers fly.

I am sure you remember Trevor, the free spirited dabbling duck, who was caught in a tryst behind a recycling bin with the comely Tatania, the heiress to a wealthy Muscovy family. Trevor was banished to The Slough, but he’s back, this time trying to gain the favor of the heiress to the Abbey, the Dowager Duck. Although she has had a tail lift, her beak is newly sharpened.

“If I am to take a final splash around the pond,” she quacked, “it will not be with this wastrel. There are only two things I require of a drake, he must be of fine feather and stupid. This Trevor only qualifies on the latter.”

But all is not Ducky at Duckton Abbey

But, wait. There’s trouble back at the Abbey. Nigel sends a Runner Duck with a message: “Help, the pond is in peril.” In the dark of night, someone threw an inflatable swan into Duckton Abbey. Was it The Duck al Orange, in revenge for being spurned by the tender breasted Lady Rosalinda of the Reeds.

Was this true, or a canard?

Nigel rounded up all of the servants and drafted a gaggle of geese to mount a flotilla against this rubber monster. They attacked, jumping on top of the swan, pecking with all of their might shouting “Make Duckton Ducky Again.” But the swan’s skin was just too tough and wouldn’t pop, it just squeaked. They needed help.

It was Trevor who rose to the occasion. Although he had developed pond-smarts in The Slough, his reentry into society involved stops in several backyard swimming pools where he studied the mechanics of pool toys. Trevor strutted back to Duckton, found the swan’s inflator valve and bit it off. The beast’s swan song was a final squeak followed by a long hiss of shame.

Trevor had saved the day. The Duck al Orange was captured and, as befitting his stature, roasted in his own fat with shallots and oranges. Lady Rosalinda accepted Trevor’s wing in marriage. The Dowager Duck shrugged and whispered, “Well I guess he did have quite a splendid tallywhacker.”