The inspiring, true story of a lowly duck.
I can't tell you the story of Mr. Duck's youth as we only came to be acquainted upon our moving into this, his home, and our new home. I would assume that he started out a jolly hatchling as most ordinary ducks do.
Mr. Duck was one of three ducks that swam about the pond that was set nicely at the bottom of the hill. Two of the ducks were mallards, one male and one female. But Mr. Duck was not a mallard. He was a... well, we don't know.
Mr. Duck appeared to be a breed all his own. And it is quite possible that for that very reason he had such a trying time. He was a sort of third wheel in the pond. No mate to enjoy splashing with, no special someone to share a tasty meal of floppy fish or the occasional breadcrumbs that the children sprinkled.
Mr. and Mrs. Mallard were quite civil to Mr. Duck, don't get me wrong. They never chased him away, but they did tend to ignore his presence as he swam some ten feet behind in their wake.
Within a week or so of our moving into our new home, we were unpacked and fairly comfortable. The ducks seemed to accept our offer of crushed corn or grain with only minor timidness.
It was the colorful season of autumn when we moved in, and as luck would have it, it was the time of year when ducks have great gatherings of friends and family over for visits - a reunion of sorts.
I was pleasantly surprised the morning that I looked out from the window to see twenty or so ducks swimming, conversing, and bathing (after their long journey it's understandable to need some freshening up).
I quickly went outside with a can of crushed corn to feed our flock of guests. To my surprise, they took to flight up and out of the pond and over the trees. It sounded like they were shouting, "Can! Can! Can!". But I suppose that they may have just as easily been shouting Quack!
"More food for us," said Mr. Duck with a little grin.
Mr. Mallard chimed in with, "If I've told them once, I've told them a thousand times... A can in hand is food for the belly!"
Although having all these friends over was fun to see, I was concerned about the pond's ability to sustain such a mob and I voiced my concern to Mr. Duck.
"Don't worry," Mr. Duck began. "They only stay for three or four days, and never more than a week."
At that point, my dog came plodding over to see what the hubbub was, and all three ducks quickly made their way back to the water. I heard someone say, "Never trust anybody that has that much hair!"
Mr. Duck was right. The feathered convention indeed only lasted a few days. And each time that we went out with our can of treats, the flock took to shouting flight, leaving the three amigos behind.
The morning that I awoke to find that our guests had gone for good was a sad one for me. Mr. Duck assured me that they would be back in the spring for another brief visit. I could see a little sadness in his eyes, but I dared not to ask why. We hardly knew each other well enough for questions of such a personal nature.
It wasn't long after that I met one of our human neighbors, a young mother of four, bearing a "welcome to the neighborhood" basket.
I told this new, friendly neighbor of mine all about our ducks and the huge get together that had just taken place. She then explained to me that our pond had once been home to many ducks. "I wonder what happened to them all?" she said curiously.
I wondered too. "Maybe they set off to seek their fortune and find new homes of their own," I thought to myself. "Could this have caused the sadness that I noticed in Mr. Duck's eyes?" Tune in next week (or whenever) for the next installment of Everything's Ducky!
To continue reading the saga Everything's Ducky, fill in the box below to receive your password and notifications of subsequent chapters!
See some funny articles here...
Or see some Stories for Children here.