It is not uncommon to meet a flock of ducks going off to do duty in the rice fields when you wander out of the house in the early morning. There are at least two such flocks in the neighbourhood, one of which regularly goes down our lane. They are in the company of their handler, a lean man beneath a wide brimmed hat and with a stout stick, he looks as typically rural as it is possible to be.

Their target always seems to be a field where the rice has been harvested but the base of the plants are still in place. Presumably they find a good variety of food, both animal and vegetable, and in return do some fertilizing. They certainly seem content wading through the water with the beaks in constant action.

Ducks on the way somewhere always move fast and with their legs set so far back you gain the impression that they are trying to catch up with themselves to avoid falling flat on their beak.

This morning I went to buy breakfast from Bu Nani who is the prefered supplier of nasi, telor, terong (rice, egg, eggplant) and sambal as a breakfast combination. Operating out a small shop with the kitchen at the back, she sells the food off a table at the front with the very occaisional customer dining in at the sole bench.

On reaching the end of the lane I could hear the ducks ahead of me in the woods. I decided to wait and watch them come out and go down the lane.

Among the early morning traffic was the breakfast becak (a tricycle arrangement which seats two passengers in front with another lean man doing the peddling behind). Our other breakfast is bubur (rice porridge) with assorted vegetables, tofu, tempe. We buy this from a roadside stall opposite the village market and this is operated by a woman who lives a couple of kilometers away. The food is cooked at home and then the pots are loaded into the wicker panniers of her bicycle and on the passenger seat of her husbands becak and then they transport this to the stall. We exchanged our now ritual greeting where we both raise out right hands and say "pagi" (good morning).

Meanwhile the ducks had reached my end of the woods and stopped. I had assumed that they would just pour out across the road and down the lane but no. They stood patiently by the gap in the boundary wall, soft quacking noises passing amongst the flock.

Eventually the handler arrived, waited for a good gap in the traffic and then at a word from him the flock swarmed out, across the road and down the lane with all the speed and determination of any morning commuter who does not want to be late for work.

Of course we never, ever, eat duck for breakfast.