This is not the pond in which this duck should be!
When they came back, it brought home to its mind that Spring had come. The duck should flee to anywhere but not this pond. Within their territories, and with full possessors around, they turned glacial with this sudden strong winds.
Blow up, winds! I know you're strong. Although those daffodils look delicate, they can endure you robustly till Spring.
But daffodils and duck, that dude hates to stay here at night. He hates seeing icy faces seemingly ignoring and accumulating into their hordes. He hates doing nothing and saying nothing in between while they are talkative.
He simply hates the current manners. I hate the current manners.