ALL seemed to be going well with our relay of daughters, grandchildren, husbands, partners and friends during August. I had picked up Tara and her two daughters and their friends at Carcassonne airport and then, three days later, had picked up Abbie, her husband and daughters from the train station in Narbonne.

So we had 11 of us staying at our house but it was set to get even more crowded. Our youngest was driving up from Sant Cugat in Spain with her baby, daughter and her friend, while I was set to take Tara and her quartet back to Carcassonne, whereupon Lucie, her partner, daughter and friend would be coming in on the plane on which Tara was leaving.

There had been only one snag. After returning home with Tara, Ellie informed me a tube had come off the pond filter and the pond was half emptied with the Koi carp looking somewhat confused.

I had pumped some water out of the culvert near us and topped up the pond, but I could have done without the aggravation when you are just arriving with guests.

On the morning I was set to head for the airport for the transfers, I walked down to feed the fish. I sat down and tossed in the pond-sticks, only for the peace to be interrupted by a quack.

I looked around and, as if to further draw my attention, the quack was repeated, whereupon I saw a large black and green duck standing on the edge of the pond.

Now not only do ducks feed on fish two inches long and under, they also go for the pond food. Further, they trample down all the flowers and plants around the pond and the nitrogen in their motions is not only very bad for carp, it can also kill them.

I cannot claim to have considered this litany of negatives as I reacted quickly. I knew that if you have one duck, you are likely to have two and following that, a family.

I wanted the duck out of my garden, and our two King Charles, three-legged Dixie and Fudge, were equality keen to give chase. Even our Canaan, who looks like a white Alsatian, had rushed down to the pond.

The duck fled from one end to the other, quacking ceaselessly and then flew over into the next garden. Content that it now realised our pond was not a welcoming place, I set off for Carcassonne, made the exchanges of daughters and grand-children and drove back.

I was just bringing the cases in through the back gate as our family were meeting up in the garden, when I heard a quack. I was informed “Donald’ – he had been given a name would you believe – was back.

I was tempted to ask if my wife had issued him with a rent book as well before I set off at something approaching a run behind our dogs. Our King Charles look sweet, but Fudge has killed several wild cats, perhaps not the full-grown variety but any cats up to a year old. He may even kill big cats: he goes for them but has yet to corner one.

The duck was on the water and Fudge headed for him with malice aforethought, as he attempted to traverse the netting. My youngest, Carrie-Anne, was shouting down to me to take care as there were young children. I have a 10-metre by 4-metre pond, which is over a metre deep, three dogs chasing round and increasingly panicky fish and duck. There was not a lot I could be said to have control of.

Eventually the duck flew up the garden, chased by me, our three-legged Dixie plus one son-in-law. Fortunately for the duck, the other two dogs were trying to extricate themselves from the netting.

Dixie cornered the dog, which was much bigger than her, and by the time we reached it, she was busy licking Donald, while holding down a wing with one of her three legs. Had Fudge been there, there would have been a dead duck.

Our arrival prompted the duck to panic again and he flew towards the wall, dropping down into the culvert that runs into and then under the garden.

I managed to catch the duck with a swimming pool net and my youngest scooped him up in a towel as I took the handle off the net. Then Ellie and Carrie-Anne drove off with the duck, a mile down the road, and deposited it by a lake close to the road. The duck waddled off and a month later, I am beginning to think the penny has dropped. Our garden is not welcoming for ducks.

So somewhat belatedly, I was able to give my own welcome to Carrie, the grandchildren and company.