R.I.P. Duckzilla

Friends, I have sad, sad news to report. Duckzilla is dead.

Duckzilla, an immense and statuesque Indian Runner Duck, took up residence in Wanstead Park a few months ago, presumably having been dumped here by a cretinous owner, and was most often seen on Heronry Pond terrorising Mallards and swallowing loaves of Kingsmill whole. He (or she - also known as Daisy or Chamomile to some) won many friends, and was a favourite of all park-goers. Sadly Duckzilla had wings the size of small anchovies; a Penguin was more likely to take to the air. And this has proved to be Duckzilla's undoing. Not able to fly, and unlikely to ever be called nimble, the likely cause of death is DOG ATTACK.

Poor Duckzilla was found on the side of Perch pond the day before yesterday, with legs and rump mangled. No other part of Duckzilla had been touched, so this probably rules out fox or mink, both of which would have been after a meal. A dog is thus the most likely candidate, and if I know Wanstead, the only candidate. But nobody saw what happened, so this only speculation - somebody will know though, and I hope we find out. This time Duckzilla, next time a child. Call me melodramatic, but it's true, you read it here first.

There is a certain breed of dog owner, and they like certain breeds of dog. "Certain" is an anagram of "a cretin" funnily enough. Anyhow, rarely are these dogs nice, and rarely are they kept under control. I am aware that I am like a broken record, and spend an unhealthy amount of my time writing about dogs and dog-owners, but believe me when I say that they have a lot to answer for, and nobody is prepared to do anything about it. The last time I spoke to a dog walker - very politely I might add - about the nesting Skylarks, I got a torrent of abuse back. And not from a shaven-headed lout as you might expect - no, from three outwardly pleasant-looking young women, who unbeknownst to me had massive chips on their shoulders about something. So while usually it's a minority giving the majority a bad name, in Wanstead it's about fifty fifty, and perhaps higher than that. And the death of Duckzilla is the result. Why can't we have some Surface-to-Dog missiles on the Fred Wigg Tower?