All is Quiet on Wareham Quay

All is quiet on the quay. Five mallards and a floating feather congregate beneath the arches of Wareham’s stone bridge. A black-headed gull circles in for landing and sends ripples out towards the committee of ducks. One bobs in its wake but none of them are ready for what’s coming next.

A green motorboat ducks under the bridge on its way upriver, creating waves that send ducks and gulls towards the riverbank, breaking up their meeting. Three take evasive action and flap into flight to avoid colliding with a line of red and yellow kayaks moored up on the quay. The boats knock gently into one another, waiting patiently for summer, laughing children, splashing attempts to climb aboard, and shouts of “Careful! You’ll tip us over!”

Landing on the empty slipway, the three ducks take an opportunity to preen. Beaks poke between feathers and dig up underneath wings while tails waggle. They’re far too busy to notice the swan that’s come to join in, shaking its much longer tail feathers as its slinky neck guides a gleaming orange beak around its body.

 The ducks exchange a look and slope off into the river as the swan rises up with wings outstretched. Extending its powerful neck up into the blue May sky, the sun warms its back and it returns to taking care of its plumage. A bead of water drips from feathers the same colour as the clouds that hang still over the quayside.

Smoke from a lone cigarette sneaks past, the owner oblivious to the birds as he stares into his phone. Two ladies stop to chat on the bridge, heads peeking over to inspect the handiwork of a man working on the boat hut. A gull perched next to them adds his thoughts on the matter. They don’t notice. He plops back onto the water to share his insights with a fellow bird instead.

A female duck naps on the end of a kayak. Her mate is two boats away, standing on one leg with his head tucked under a wing. The swan keeps himself to himself, not minding the others keeping their distance. He gets on with the important job of keeping his feathers waterproof, clean, and beautiful.

Pigeons bubble and coo from the roof of the old church, and the gentle sound of wood sawing drifts from the boat house as preparations for the holiday season get under way.

The gulls take their noisy opinions elsewhere and a gentle breeze tickles the sleeping duck’s feathers. Summer may be just around the corner but, for now, it is peaceful on the river.

Wareham Quay in Dorset

Have you been to Wareham? Let me know your favourite spots in the comments.