Irving, our cat, continues to be intensely interested in the ducks. He's picked out the smallest female as either prey, or someone to play with. Sadly, with Irving, it could be either. (To my knowledge, by the way, he's never caught anything larger than a cricket, and he's about a year old.)
Here the duck is getting ready to enter the water, with Irving crouched behind her.
She went into the water without incident, so he came up to sit on the bench while I took more pictures of the ducks. Most of those didn't come out, because -- like most people taking photographs of ducks -- my arm was getting jarred by a goat pulling on my jacket, asking to be petted.
I gave up and scratched Arlene the goat behind her big floppy ears for a while, and Irving resumed the 'hunt.'
Doesn't he look dangerous? The duck, who had come back up on the bank close to where Irving was, was clearly terrified, though she was brave and didn't allow the fear to disturb her nap.
I don't know how the ducks know that he's useless as a hunter, but they obviously do know...