Ducking around

A pair of maned ducks has shown up. They fossick on the grass, in amongst the clover and weeds. The female, with her speckled breast, blends in more than does the male, with his brown head and striped back. The female feeds intently, barely lifting her head. Her bill digs among the plants. The male is more cautious. His dark head swivels one way and another. 

Image credit: Pen from Pixabay (because my bird photography skills are sadly lacking!)

I sit in the living room in the early morning and watch them through the window. They are about ten metres away from where I sit. From here, I can see his chest rising and falling as he chatters to his mate - I’m not sure if his talk is of warnings or reassurance. He pecks at the ground sporadically. Mostly he is alert, looking around. He stays close to her, following where she goes.

A high pitched alarm call pierces the air. I don’t know what bird has made it or where exactly it is. Nor what has frightened it. The ducks heed the sound. They both raise their heads. They stand perfectly still for a few moments, poised between flight and relaxation, then resume foraging. Or she does at least. He is still on watch.