Inspirations

‘The other ducklings are so charming,’ said the old duck. ‘Make yourselves at home, and if you happen to find an eel head, you can bring it to me.’

And so they made themselves at home.

But the poor duckling who was the last to come out of his egg and looked so horrid was bitten, shoved and teased by both the ducks and the hens. ‘He’s too big,’ they all said. And the tom turkey, who was born with spurs, which made him think he was an emperor, puffed himself up like a ship at full sail, walked right over to him, and started gobbling until he turned bright red in the face. The poor duckling had no idea which way to turn. He was very sad because he looked so hideous and was ridiculed by the whole duck yard.

That’s how it went on the first day, and afterward it got worse and worse. The poor duckling was chased by everyone. Even his siblings were mean to him, and they always said, ‘If only the cat would get you! What a horrid troublemaker you are!’ And his mother said, ‘If only you were far away!’ The ducks bit him, and the hens pecked at him, and the maid who was supposed to feed the animals gave him a kick with her foot.

Then he took off running and flew over the hedge. The little birds in the bushes darted up into the air out of fright. ‘It’s because I’m so hideous,’ thought the duckling and closed his eyes but still kept on running. Then he reached the great marsh where the wild ducks lived. There he lay all night, he was so tired and sad.

In the morning the wild ducks flew up, and they looked at their new companion. ‘Who on earth are you?’ they asked, and the duckling turned this way and that, greeting them as best he could.

‘You’re awfully hideous,’ said the wild ducks. ‘But that doesn’t matter to us, provided you don’t marry anyone in our family.’ The poor thing! He had no intention of getting married, as long as he was allowed to sit among the reeds and drink a little marsh water.

There he stayed for two whole days. Then two wild geese came along, or rather two wild ganders, because they were males. It wasn’t long ago that they had come out of their eggs, and that’s why they were so brash.

‘Listen here, my friend,’ they said. ‘You’re so hideous that we actually like you! Want to come along and be a migrating bird? Nearby, in another marsh, there are some heavenly sweet wild geese, all of them young ladies who could say, “Quack!” You’re in a position to be a success, because you’re so hideous.’

‘Bang! Boom!’ they suddenly heard overhead. Both the wild geese fell dead into the reeds, and the water turned blood-red. Bang! Boom! was heard again, and entire flocks of wild geese rose up from the reeds. Then shots rang out again. A great hunt was under way. The hunters lay all around the marsh. Some were even up in the tree branches that stretched far out over the reeds. Blue smoke drifted like clouds among the dark trees and hovered far out over the

water. Through the mud came the hunting dogs. Splash! Splash! Reeds and rushes swayed on all sides. What a horror it was for the poor duckling! He turned his head to tuck it under his wing, but just at that moment a huge terrifying dog stopped right next to him, his long tongue hanging out of his mouth and his eyes shining horridly. He lowered his jaws toward the duckling, showed his sharp teeth and … Splish! Splish! He left without taking him.

‘Oh, thank God,’ sighed the duckling. ‘I’m so hideous that not even the dog wanted to bite me.’

And he lay very still as the bullets whistled through the reeds, with one shot exploding after the other.

Not until late in the day was it quiet, but the poor youngster still didn’t dare stand up. He waited another few hours before he looked around and then hurried away from the marsh as fast as he could, racing over field and meadow. There was a strong wind, so he had a hard time making headway.

Toward evening he reached a poor little farmhouse. It was so wretched that it couldn’t make up its mind which way to fall, and that’s why it was still standing. The wind was blowing so hard against the duckling that he had to sit on his tail to hold his ground, and it got worse and worse. Then he noticed that the door had come loose from one of its hinges and was hanging so crookedly that he could slip through the crack into the house, and that’s what he did.

Inside lived an old woman with her cat and her hen. The cat, who was called Sonny, could arch his back and purr. He could even throw off sparks, but for that you had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The hen had very short little legs, and that’s why she was called ‘Henny Shortlegs’. She was good at laying eggs, and the woman was as fond of her as of her own child.

In the morning they noticed at once the strange duckling. The cat started purring and the hen began to cluck.

‘What’s this?’ said the woman, looking all around, but she couldn’t see well, and that’s why she thought the duckling was a plump duck that had gone astray. ‘What a nice find,’ she said. ‘Now I can have duck eggs, if only it’s not a drake. We’ll have to give it a try.’

And so the duckling was accepted on a trial basis for three weeks, but no eggs appeared. The cat was master of the house, and the hen was the mistress. They both kept on saying, ‘We and the rest of the world,’ because they thought they were half of it, and the better half at that. The duckling thought it might be possible to have another opinion, but the hen wouldn’t stand for it.

‘Can you lay eggs?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘Well then, you’d better keep your mouth shut!’

And the cat said, ‘Can you arch your back, purr and throw sparks?’

‘No.’

‘Well then, we don’t want to hear from you when sensible people are talking!’

And the duckling sat in the corner, in a bad temper. Then he happened to think about the fresh air and sunshine. He had such a strange desire to float on the water that at last he couldn’t resist, he had to tell the hen.

‘What’s come over you?’ she asked. ‘You don’t have anything to do, that’s why you get such ideas into your head. Lay eggs or purr, and it will pass.’

‘But it’s so lovely to float on the water,’ said the duckling. ‘So lovely to dip your head under water and dive down to the bottom.’

‘Oh, that’s a great pleasure, all right!’ said the hen. ‘You must be crazy! Ask the cat – and he’s the smartest one I know – whether he likes floating on the water or diving underneath. I won’t even talk about myself. Or you can ask our mistress, the old woman. There’s no one wiser than her in the whole world. Do you think she wants to float and get water on her head?’

‘You don’t understand me,’ said the duckling.