Tag: one

May 11th – Less hard to spot is Mrs. Muscovy, the Newtown One. Now feral, the flock she should have been part of has moved on, and this uncaged canard who escaped and subsequently survived nearly 18 months of canalside freedom is now a permanent fixture of the canal between Middleton Bridge and the aqueduct over the railway at Newtown.

When I passed this rather unique duck today, she was preening and bathing determinedly in the water, and making quite a splash.

And long may she continue to do so…

April 21st – Spent some downtime doing mechanical things on the bikes and then went for a test spin up to Chasewater. On the way, I noted that Mrs. Miuscovy, who escaped her domestic flock over 12 months previously, was still thriving on the canal despite her singular and peculiar habit of rarely moving from the towpath and adjacent patch of canal.

She’s a fascinating and resilient bird, and considering her fellow escapee was fox lunch soon after escape, the Newtown One’s survival is remarkable and to be commended.

A daring and delightfully eccentric duck.

February 22nd – Also in Kings Hill Park, I found this stripy fellow watching me with his one eye. I’ve never seen him before, and although he’s clearly been in the wars with the sight deficiency and the battered ear, he was a very proud, lithe chap whom I don’t think was very old at all.

I took this blurry photo, which although not well focussed gives you an idea of the cat. I instantly fell in love with him. Just look at that magnificent tail.

He didn’t hang about, and clearly had business to attend to. I do hope we meet again, hopefully when he’s feeling a bit friendlier…

December 25th – Mrs. Muscovy was still in her favourite spot when I passed by. Still solitary and apparently contemplating. Escaped from the nearby smallholding, still resisting recapture, this funny fowl is inscrutable and something of a local canard celebrity.

I wished her a Merry Christmas, and after nearly a year on the run, bid the Newtown One another year of singular freedom.

December 11th – Nipping up to Chasewater to check out the Christmas Fair there, I spotted a familiar duck in the reeds near the Chase Road bridge.

It’s Mrs. Muscovy, the Newtown One. On the run (waddle) for nearly a year now, I thought the foxes must have had her as I’d not seen her for ages.

I’m glad to see this curious, singular, solitary duck is still with us.

August 20th – Something else I was pleased to note on my long, slow return was the portly, waddling form of Mrs. Muscovy, or the Newtown One, the duck that escaped from the flock at the smallholding by the canal between the Lichfield Road and Chase Road bridges. 

Defying all attempts to return her to the comfort and security of a kept flock, this steadfastly singular duck likes a spot just by the aqueduct at Newtown, from which to watch the world go by.

I had thought the local fox had made lunch of her, but she appears to be fit and well. Which is good news, really.

July 9th – Finally for today, and for TheStymaster, Denis Jones and others, the Newtown One lives, and is still clearly a bit eccentric.

With the Abbey Road white ducks sadly down to two like the bachelor boys in Walsall Wood (the mallard cross group), it was feared the foxes had claimed Mrs. Muscovy, but no, she’s just getting better at hiding.

She’s not a number, she’s a free duck!

May 15th – I was pleased to note while in Birmingham that a piece of public art I thought had been lost from St. Chad’s Circus subway was still extant, and had been moved. The mosaic or whatever it is – it’s more like a veneer than anything, but it’s not wood – is of trains and transport and commemorates Snow Hill Station, which was closed (I think) at the time it was created. 

The work used to be on the subway wall in one of the most horrid underpasses in the city centre. When the subterranean horror was infilled, I assumed the work had been lost, and forgot about it. 

I noticed the work fronting the planters outside One, Snow Hill. I’m glad it was saved, it’s a little bit of the Birmingham I remember.

Just like the horrid pub in the subway, The Brown Derby. That was a shocker.

One artwork is still missing, though, and used to stand on the grass above street level on St. Chads; it was a metal, full size child’s swing, captured and welded in multiple stages of movement as if caught in stop motion photography. It was brilliant. Anyone know what happened to that?