Worth of a Duck

Doug’s webbed feet paddled vigorously through the clear blue water of Averdale Pond. He huffed and puffed, the wind whistling all around him. The fragrance of dirt hung in the air as usually comes with fresh rainfall, but the small duckling didn’t notice. His gaze fixed on his two brothers, Nate and Dage, who both swam as gracefully as Ma did.

“Hurry up, Doug!” Nate quacked, a sneer on his soft feathered face. “Ma’s wants all of us in the barn before that storm comes!”

“Don’t want Farmer Brown to find you out here either, all alone,” Dage mocked. His yellow feathers stuck out wildly in all directions, looking almost as crazy as the gleam in his eye.

Doug furrowed his eyes and pushed harder. His lungs burned, his feet ached. Worst of all, his stomach rumbled from missing lunch. Again.

“Why can’t you guys wait for me?” he said. Nate offered what was supposed to be a shrug.

“Ma might kick us out if she finds out we’re spending time with you,” he called. “No one needs a weakling in their family. She’s just waiting for you to get lost out here.”

Thunder rumbled across the sky, thick, dark clouds gathering. Doug remembered the rain earlier that morning and a shiver ran through his feathers.

Doug tried in vain to catch up to his brothers, but with only a few swift kicks, they glided across the pond towards Ma and the rest of the family. He puffed out a sigh, deflating like a balloon.

“I’ll never be strong enough,” he muttered to himself. “I’m just too small and too slow.” As he allowed himself to drift and let his little webbed feet rest, a smooth dark mass emerged from the water to his left. It was shiny and round, and from the way the water ran off the sides, Doug guessed it was hard too. In front of it rose out of the water a face.

“Why, what is the matter, little one?” it asked in a smooth, deep voice. It had a long neck with an ovular shaped face and a mouth that almost looked like a beak. Two dark eyes stared at the Duckling.

Doug’s heart leaped and he kicked back in the water. “Who are you?” he cried. “What are you?”

The eyes squinted for a moment, then opened wide.

“I am Angus, the snapping turtle,” he rumbled. “I live in these waters, don’t-ya-know. And you,” he added, “are floating in my favorite swimming spot.” Doug backed up a little more.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir! I did not mean to disturb you.” He looked down at his small-framed reflection. “I’m simply too small and too slow for my family.” Angus’ eyes moved up and down as he examined Doug. With a great stroke, the snapping turtle swam in a circle around the duckling. His head bobbed up and down in a decisive nod.

“You look to be about the same size as any other duckling I’ve seen, don’t-ya-know,” he said. “I’m called slow on land, but in the water not even the fastest fish could catch me!” He bumped Doug with his nose. “You just need some practice! Come, let me show you.”

Angus bobbed underwater, lowering his shell so there was just a little bit of it showing.

“Climb on, kid!” he ordered and Doug, although he could see how slippery the surface was, climbed tentatively on top. Without a moment’s hesitation, Angus flew through the water like a torpedo. Doug pressed his feet into the hard surface of the shell. The wind, now stronger than it was before, buzzed by, ruffling Doug’s feathers and pushing his face back.

“Faster!” Doug found himself yelling, a quack of joy building in his throat. The snapping turtle accelerated and the wind pushed the duckling back even more.

BOOM! Crashed the thunder, lightning spread across the sky like broken glass. Doug jumped up and the wind caught hold of his light frame, sending him into the water with a splash! The world turned dark and soundless and Doug found himself for the first time completely upside down in the water. His eyes jolted around the scene in a frenzy, trying to find something, anything to focus on. His heart raced, his eyes stung, and even worse, his stomach rumbled.

No sooner had Doug entered the water than he found himself being dragged out of it. Coughing and sputtering, Doug sprawled into the dirt and stared up at his rescuer.

“Are you alright, little one?” the orange face of a fox entered his vision, concern written all over it. The duckling scrambled away, still sputtering.

“Who are you?” replied Doug. “What are you?”

The fox sat back, examining him much like the sea turtle had. “I’m Trixi the Fox,” she yipped. “I was playing over here with my pups when I saw you fall in the water.” Doug sighed.

“I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m simply too small and too slow for my family and even Angus the Sea Turtle,” he lamented. “I’m tired and hungry and I don’t know what I’m good for.” The fox tilted her head to the right.

“Good for? And who decides that?” the fox asked. “All of my pups are unique; not one of them is the same. Come little duckling, I’ll take you to them!” Dripping wet and with tired feet, Doug waddled alongside Trixi until tall grass surrounded them on both sides. Little green glowing eyes appeared from the grass and out ran three little foxes, each with their own pattern of orange, white, and black fur. They yipped and jumped and hollered on all sides, looking at Doug with curious head-tilts.

“Come play with us!” one of them called. She motioned with a welcome paw towards a small path that led through the edges of the grass. Doug waddled along, allowing himself to smile. They wanted to play with him!

However, down came the rain that the thunder and clouds had promised. The soft dirt grew very wet and soon turned to slick, heavy mud. Before he knew it, Doug’s feet were almost completely buried in the mud, though the foxes did not notice.

CRASH! went the thunder once again, and in the blinding light, the fox family disappeared.

“I’ll never be strong enough,” Doug cried as the rain and the dirt turned his yellow feathers into a mud ball. “I’m simply too small and too slow for my family, Angus the Sea Turtle, and Trixi the Fox.” The duckling shook as sobs escaped his throat and rained joined tears in the mud surrounding him.

“What’s the matter, little one?” a soft, peaceful voice croaked. Doug turned to look, but didn’t see anyone.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Who are you? What are you?” Two bulging eyes appeared in the mud to his left. Then emerged a small almost flat body who’s color matched that of the mud’s.

“I am Jon the Toad,” he croaked, blinking the rain out of his eyes. “I often burrow in the mud to protect myself, but you do not seem to be all that dangerous.” Doug sighed.

“I’m lost,” he said. “My family left me and now I’m stuck in all this mud. I’m simply too small and too slow and I’m tired and hun-”

“Now, now,” Jon interrupted, hopping right in front of the duckling. “I’m small and I’m slow, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get myself out of the mud.” He began to burrow into the mud that surrounded Doug’s feet. “Come now, try to get yourself out.”

Doug huffed and puffed, pulling his webbed feet against the muddy barrier that had been created. He pushed and pulled and pushed again, all the while Jon dug about the mud as the rain continued to fall. Finally, with a definitive quack, Doug pulled and his left foot slipped free. Another tug, and out came the other.

“Let’s get you home,” Jon said, hopping alongside Doug as he trudged through the endless puddles surrounding them.

Though the sky was dark and the rain fell and the lightning thundered, Doug found the strength to keep trudging. He had to get home.

With another flash of lightning, the barn came into view. It’s tall red doors stood as a wall between Doug and his family.

“Look at me,” he cried, examining his muddied wings and cold, aching feet. “They’ll laugh at me and probably tell me to sit outside.” Jon blinked at him, then looked towards the doorway.

“But if you don’t go inside, they’ll never know how strong you’ve been! Come, little one, I’ll be right by your side.”

One shaky step after another, Doug waddled into the barn, shivering against the warmth of the room. A lantern sitting by the horse trough cast a soft glow among the straw that scattered the floor, and illuminated a huddle of ducklings in the corner.

“It’s Doug!” called Nate, the same snarky sneer cast across his gaze. “Look at him! Poor little duckling got stuck in the mud!” A chorus of quacking laughter echoed through the barn, and Doug shrunk.

“Hey now!” cried Jon. “Doug, why don’t you tell them about how strong you’ve been?” The room went silent.

Doug glanced at Jon with doubtful eyes but after receiving an encouraging nod, he took a deep breath.

“After you left me,” he started, looking at Nate, “I came across a snapping turtle. He showed me that even though he was slow on land, he was the fastest creature in the pond. He took me on a ride and I flew through the air!”

The ducklings oo-ed and aw-ed as he spoke. Nate frowned, taking a step back.

“After I met the snapping turtle, I came across a fox named Trixi. She introduced me to her three pups who were all completely different! We played and jumped and hollered and it didn’t matter to them that I was smaller or slower.” The duckling felt a spark of confidence as he spoke, further enhanced by the positive attention from the others.

“You played with foxes?!” one of Doug’s sisters cried in awe. “They’re so big and scary!” Doug puffed up his chest.

“Not to me! The rain then came in massive drops and I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into the mud. I was stuck; I couldn’t get out!” The other ducklings gathered around Doug, eager to hear what he would say. Nate stood alone on the other side of the barn.

“That was when Jon came,” he said, gesturing to his new friend. The toad gazed blankly at the others, but nodded in recognition. “He showed me how he burrows himself into and out of the mud, and after a long struggle, I was free!” He displayed his muddy wings and shivering feet for all to see.

“I don’t believe you!” growled Nate, storming through the crowd and straight up to Doug. His puffed feathers towered over him like a grizzly bear.

“It’s true,” Jon said, hopping in between the two. “Doug trudged through that mud all so he could make it home. He’s been tired and hungry, and worried that being small and slow affects his worth.” Jon examined Nate once more, before adding, “size and speed; color and species; none of these determine someone’s worth.”

The toad hopped into the middle of the group, looking around with his bulging black eyes. “He’s one of you; a part of your family. And that’s all that should matter.” He gestured to Doug. “Now let’s get this poor duckling something to eat!”

Cheers echoed Jon’s enthusiasm and the group ushered Doug deeper into the barn. Though he was tired and hungry and covered in mud, he glowed with delight. Tears slid down his face but this time, he knew they were tears of joy.

The End