Anstruther's Duck Race: Waddle It Take To Win?

On a crisp spring morning in April, almost the entire town of Anstruther (or what seemed like it) assembled at the Dreel Burn to anxiously watch The Duck Race — where over a thousand bright yellow rubber ducks are launched into the river, and everyone watches

with bated breath to see if their sponsored duck will win.

I set off for Anstruther, with a loyal friend in tow, on 4 April, at 9am (diabolically early for the first Saturday of Reading Week). Upon arriving, we found a quaint coffee shop to stock up on snacks and energy for the high-adrenaline event waiting for us. We debated whether we should sponsor a duck (£2 each, with all proceeds going to the Anstruther Improvement Association, which organises the event every year), but ultimately we didn’t have time to stay for the prize-giving event, so we had to settle for just engaging in the general excitement of the race.

After a while enjoying our coffees with a view of the harbour, kids in distinctly duck-themed paraphernalia began to appear (a personal favourite being the toddlers with rubber duck deely-boppers, although the duck armbands and tutus were also excellent), and we knew it was time. Downing our drinks and saying goodbye to the lovely ladies in the café who had just asked us where the duck race was so they could “stay far away from all of that” — it was too “high energy and brightly coloured” for them, apparently — we rushed to follow the path of families in costumes to the race site. Despite being too late to get a prime spot on the bridge over the river, a kind lady with a pram saw our fluster and pointed us in the direction of another top spot, in a pub beer garden just around the corner. We settled into our viewing spot just in time to hear a cheer go up — we couldn’t see anything yet, but assumed that meant that the ducks had been dispatched. A few minutes of anticipation later, the first of them began to appear along the stream.

I can’t describe the energy as anything except electric, which may sound sarcastic, but I promise it’s not. Gasps and shouts were heard from the crowd at the first few ducks, who fought an intense battle around the rapids and waterfalls (ok, fine, the faster-flowing streams and a few rocks). The atmosphere didn’t dissipate once the winning duck had been caught and crowned either — neighbours in the crowds were chatting, kids were running wild, and other onlookers were anxiously waiting for a glimpse of their sponsored duck, presumably hoping that it wasn’t stuck in the rocks further upstream.

Despite only being a twenty-minute drive from St Andrews, Anstruther (on the East Neuk of Fife) has a very different vibe from our University town. There’s no doubt that a duck race would be popular here, but it would most likely be co-opted by students clutching cans of Tennent’s and very few families with toddlers in tutus. Not that I’m against that — I’m always up for a cheeky tinnie at an event, and I think it would be a great way to raise money for charity (any societies up for it next year?). However, there was something uniquely wholesome about the whole community coming together for what was, fundamentally, the very unserious and whimsical event of watching rubber ducks float down a slow-moving stream!

Photo by Wikimedia Commons