It was so beautiful in the country. It was the summer time. The wheat fields were golden, the oats were green, and the hay stood in great stacks in the green meadows. All around the meadows and cornfields grew thick woods, and in the midst of the forest was a deep lake. It was very beautiful, it was delightful in the country.
In a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farmhouse. From the walls down to the water’s edge grew great burdocks. In this snug retreat sat a duck upon her nest. She was watching her young brood. But she felt no pleasure. She was tired and bored. She seldom had visitors. The other ducks liked much better to swim about in the canals than to sit under the burdock leaves to have a gossip with her.
At length[1], one shell cracked, and soon another, and from each came a duckling that lifted its head and cried “Peep, peep.”
“Quack, quack!” said the mother; and then they all tried to say it, too. They looked all about them[2] on every side at the tall green leaves. Their mother allowed them to look about as much as they liked, because green is good for the eyes.
“What a great world it is!” said the ducklings, when they found how much more room they had than when they were in the eggshell.
“Is this all the world?” said the mother. “No. Wait till you see the garden. It stretches down to the pastor’s field, though I never went there. Are you all here?” she continued. “No, not all; the largest egg still lies there, I see. I wonder how long. I’m really tired of it!”
And she sat down again.
“Well, and how are you today?” quacked an old duck who came to pay her a visit[3].
“Look, there’s one egg more. The shell is hard and does not break,” said the mother, who sat still upon her nest. “But just look at the others. What a pretty family! Are they not the prettiest little ducklings in the world? They are the image of their father! But he never comes to see me”.
“Let me see the egg that does not break,” said the old duck. “I think it’s a Guinea fowl’s egg[4]. The same thing happened to me once, and it gave me a lot of trouble. They are afraid of the water. I quacked and clucked, but all in vain[5]. Let me take a look at it. Yes, I am right; it’s a Guinea fowl, believe me. Take my advice and leave it where it is. Come to the water and teach the other children to swim.”
“I think I will sit a little while longer,” said the mother. “A day or two more won’t matter.”
“Very well,” said the old duck. She rose and went away.
At last the great egg broke, and the latest bird cried “Peep, peep,” when he crept forth from the shell. How big and ugly he was! The mother duck stared at him and did not know what to think.
“Really,” she said, “this is an enormous duckling, and it is not at all like the others. Is he really a Guinea fowl? Well, we shall see when we get to the water. He must go into the water. If he won’t, I’ll push him”.
On the next day the weather was delightful. The sun shone brightly on the green burdock leaves. The mother duck took her whole family down to the water and jumped in with a splash. “Quack, quack!” cried she, and one after another the little ducklings jumped in. The water closed over their heads, but they came up again in an instant and swam quite prettily. Their legs were paddling under them easily. The ugly gray duckling was also in the water, he was swimming with them.
“Oh,” said the mother, “that is not a Guinea fowl. See how well he uses his legs! How erect he holds himself! He is my own child, and he is not so very ugly after all, if you look at him properly. Quack, quack! Come with me now. I will take you into grand society and introduce you to the farmyard. But you must keep close to me[6]. Someone may tread upon you. Furthermore, beware of the cat!”
When they reached the farmyard, they heard a riot. Two families were fighting for an eel’s head. But, after all, the cat carried it away.
“See, children, that is the life,” said the mother duck. He was whetting her beak, she wanted the eel’s head, too. “Come, now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can behave. You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck yonder. She is the highest duck here and has Spanish blood. Do you see she has a red rag on her leg? It is something very grand and a great honor for a duck. It shows that every one is anxious not to lose her. Both man and beast can notice her. Come, now. A well-bred duckling spreads his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother. Now bend your necks and say ‘Quack!’”
The ducklings did it, but the other ducks stared, and said, “Look, here comes another brood! No room for them! And what a queer-looking bird one of them is; we don’t want him here!
And then one flew out and bit the poor duckling in the neck.
“Leave him alone,” said the mother; “he is not doing any harm”.
“Yes, but he is so big and ugly,” said the spiteful duck, “and therefore we must beat him. It will do him good.”
“The others are very pretty children,” said the old duck with the rag on her leg, “all but that one. Transform him; he is really ill-favored.”
