THE devastation wrought by our ducks and geese during the recent freeze-up continues to come to light.

Going for a bay leaf to add aroma to a stew I was making, I found the plant stripped of every leaf. Some foliage for an arrangement? Ah. An interesting nibbled effect along the edges of the leaves can only add to the end product. Apparently some leaves are tastier than others and only merit a quick sampling, while others are treated to the full meat and two veg treatment.

A cherished shrub in a terracotta pot by the back door is now only represented by

two inches of twiggy stump. And, after successfully preventing the ducks from eating a neighbour's emerging daffodil plants, the geese have feasted on mine. They even had a go at the discarded Christmas tree, but must have not found the taste to their liking.

I felt sorry for Oggie the duck, on the news, who had been trapped by his wings in the ice, but now rather wish that the same thing had happened to all of ours until the weather warms up.

Now that the thaw is here, most of the poultry has disappeared from the farmhouse vicinity to get on with the serious business of mating and egg-laying and seem to find plenty of nourishment in the ponds and fields around the farm. They have also been seen wandering and flitting across to a new attraction that is being opened up in the village.

A neighbouring property to ours was once surrounded by a moat. Some years ago, the farm attached to the house was sold off, and the house has gone through various stages of renovation. Much of the rubbish and many of the cars and old tractors that belonged to previous owners were known to have been dumped into the moat, more recently resembling a large puddle, but the new owner has decided to dig out the moat and restore the surrounds of the house to their former stately glory.

For the past few weeks, except during the big freeze-up, the village has throbbed to the sound of major earth-moving equipment - and probably major curses and groans as the detritus of centuries is shovelled into skips. The excavations are now beginning to produce quite an expanse of water and I have noticed several waddlers cautiously picking their way back over the cattle grid placed at the entrance to the moat house.

"Don't they realise they can fly?' I asked John.

"Why make things simple for themselves," he replied.

I spoke to our neighbour about his plans for the moat and to ask if he objected to the range of new visitors he is getting. He is calling in landscape gardeners to create the final effect in his garden. The cattle grid on the entrance to the house was actually put in place to stop the three dairy herds in the village from straying into the garden on one of their occasional breakouts. The last time this happened, the cattle just jumped the grid, as only one grid had been put in place, and it needs at least the depth of two to stop a determined cow.

The grid that is there now is more of a hazard to human footwear than anything else, our neighbour said, but is quite a good early notification of visitors as it rumbles when cars drive over.

"Gives me time to hide from visitors," he said.

At the moment he is quite phlegmatic about the prospect of ducks, geese, hens and our still solitary peacock in his garden. Wonder what the landscape gardener will think?

Updated: 12:35 Thursday, January 24, 2002