Although it’s a minor tragedy in the scheme of things, summer in our house is marked by worry over the fate of ducklings on the canal.

The story will be familiar to anyone who walks along the path. One day weedy cheeps are heard and a proud mother, followed by a dozen balls of fluff, comes into view. The countdown begins.

The next day there will be eight, a few days later four and by the end of the week there might be one lone survivor.

Are rats or giant pike the villains? Why do we care more about the ducklings than whatever is having them for dinner? Can you have too much nature?

While Ulverston will probably never star in Springwatch, it has enough wildlife to pose these and similar conundrums. Some creatures are surely above reproach. On a summer’s twilight there are few sights more beautiful than that of the barn owl ghosting over fields and hedgerows barely a mile from the town centre, and if you are lucky you will see the blue flash of a kingfisher within spitting distance of GlaxosmithKline.

Other animals, like the roe deer we see quite often near the railway embankment, are a delight to some and a pest to others. We were very happy to see a hefty otter climbing over a fallen willow and slipping into the canal, but the anglers were less entranced.

I’ve been assured that these allegedly shy animals have been moved sensitively on to where they won’t taunt fishermen by leaving chewed fish heads everywhere.

At the bottom of the heap are animals with few champions, like rats and seagulls when they leave the sea behind. Never mind that rats are intelligent, agile and adaptable, their tails are horrible and they remind us of the Black Death, and seagulls, tempted inland by our rubbish, dive-bomb innocent joggers and splat on cars.

Anyway, now the ducks have got wise and are taking their offspring to the Leven off Plumpton where this year I saw three mothers and at least thirty well-grown youngsters. So next year we can worry about the moorhen chicks…