The Ugly Duckling

It was lovely summer weather in the countryside. The golden corn, the green oats, and the haystacks in the meadows looked beautiful. The stork walked about on his long red legs and chattered in Egyptian, the language he had learned from his mother. The cornfields and meadows were surrounded by large forests with deep pools in the middle. It was truly delightful to walk about in the country.

In a sunny spot stood a pleasant old farmhouse close by a deep river. From the house down to the water grew great burdock leaves, so tall that a little child could stand upright under the biggest one. The place was as wild as the center of a thick wood.

In this cozy spot sat a duck on her nest, watching for her young to hatch. She was getting tired of waiting, for the little ones were taking a long time to come out of their shells, and she seldom had visitors.

The other ducks preferred swimming in the river to climbing the slippery banks and sitting under a burdock leaf to chat with her.

At last one shell cracked, then another, and from each egg came a little creature that lifted its head and cried, "Peep, peep." "Quack, quack," said the mother, and they all quacked as well as they could and looked around at the big green leaves.

Their mother let them look as much as they liked, because green is good for the eyes. "How large the world is!" said the young ducks, now that they had much more room than inside the eggshell. "Do you think this is the whole world?" asked the mother.

"Wait till you see the garden; it stretches far beyond to the parson's field, but I have never gone that far. Are you all out?" she continued, rising. "No, I declare, the largest egg is still there. I wonder how much longer this will last.

I am quite tired of it." And she sat down again on the nest.

"Well, how are you getting on?" asked an old duck who came to visit.

"One egg hasn't hatched yet," said the duck. "It won't break. But look at all the others—aren't they the prettiest little ducklings you've ever seen? They look just like their father, who is so unkind he never comes to see me."

"Let me see the egg that won't break," said the old duck. "I'm sure it's a turkey's egg. I once let myself be tricked into hatching some, and after all my care, the young ones were afraid of the water. I quacked and clucked, but I couldn't get them to go in. Let me look at the egg. Yes, that's a turkey's egg. Take my advice: leave it and teach the other children to swim."

"I think I'll sit on it a little longer," said the duck. "Since I've sat so long already, a few more days won't matter."

"Please yourself," said the old duck, and she waddled away.

At last the big egg broke, and a young one crept out, crying, "Peep, peep." It was very large and ugly. The duck stared at it and exclaimed, "It's very large and not at all like the others. I wonder if it really is a turkey. We'll soon find out when we go to the water. It must go in, even if I have to push it myself."

The next day the weather was delightful, and the sun shone brightly on the green burdock leaves. The mother duck took her young brood down to the water and jumped in with a splash. "Quack, quack," she cried, 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 about quite nicely, paddling with their legs under them. The ugly duckling was also in the water, swimming with them.

"Oh," said the mother, "that's not a turkey. How well he uses his legs, and how upright he holds himself! He's my own child, and he's not so very ugly after all if you look at him properly. Quack, quack! Come with me now. I'll take you into grand society and introduce you to the farmyard. But you must keep close to me or you might get stepped on. And above all, beware of the cat."

When they reached the farmyard, there was a great commotion. Two families were fighting over an eel's head, which was finally carried off by the cat. "See, children, that's the way of the world," said the mother duck, whetting her beak, for she would have liked the eel's head herself.

"Come now, use your legs, and let me see how well you can behave. You must bow your heads prettily to that old duck over there. She is the highest born of them all and has Spanish blood, so she is very well off.

Don't you see she has a red rag tied to her leg? That's something very grand and a great honor for a duck. It shows that everyone wants to keep her safe, because she can be recognized by both humans and animals. Come now, don't turn your toes in.

A well-bred duckling spreads his feet wide apart, just like his father and mother. Now bend your neck and say 'quack.'"

The ducklings did as they were told, but the other duck stared and said, "Look, here comes another brood, as if there weren't enough of us already! And what a strange-looking one that is. We don't want him here." Then one duck flew out and bit the ugly duckling on the neck.

"Leave him alone," said the mother. "He's not doing any harm."

"Yes, but he's so big and ugly," said the spiteful duck, "and therefore he must be sent away."

"The others are very pretty children," said the old duck with the rag on her leg. "All except that one. I wish his mother could improve him a little."

"That's impossible, your grace," replied the mother. "He's not pretty, but he has a very good nature, and he swims as well as—or even better than—the others. I think he'll grow up to be pretty, and perhaps he'll become smaller. He stayed in the egg too long, so his shape isn't quite right." Then she stroked his neck and smoothed his feathers, saying, "He's a drake, so it doesn't matter so much. I think he'll grow up strong and be able to take care of himself."

"The other ducklings are graceful enough," said the old duck. "Now make yourselves at home, and if you find an eel's head, you may bring it to me."

So they made themselves comfortable. But the poor duckling, who had come out of his shell last and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and made fun of—not only by the ducks but by all the poultry. "He's too big," they all said.

The turkey cock, who had been born with spurs and thought he was an emperor, puffed himself out like a ship in full sail and flew at the duckling, turning red in the head with anger.

The poor little thing didn't know where to go and was very miserable because he was so ugly and laughed at by the whole farmyard. Day after day it got worse and worse. The poor duckling was chased by everyone.

Even his brothers and sisters were unkind and said, "Oh, you ugly thing, I wish the cat would get you!" And his mother said she wished he had never been born. The ducks pecked him, the chickens beat him, and the girl who fed the poultry kicked him.

At last he ran away, frightening the little birds in the hedge as he flew over the fence.

"They're afraid of me because I'm ugly," he said. So he closed his eyes and flew on until he came to a large moor where wild ducks lived. He stayed there all night, feeling very tired and sad.

In the morning the wild ducks rose into the air and stared at the newcomer. "What sort of duck are you?" they all said, gathering around him.

He bowed to them as politely as he could, but he didn't answer their question. "You are exceedingly ugly," said the wild ducks, "but that doesn't matter as long as you don't want to marry one of our family."

Poor thing! He had no thoughts of marriage. All he wanted was to lie among the rushes and drink some water from the moor. After he had been there two days, two wild geese—or rather goslings, since they had just hatched and were very cheeky—came along.

"Listen, friend," said one of them to the duckling. "You're so ugly that we like you very much. Will you come with us and become a bird of passage? Not far from here is another moor where there are some pretty wild geese, all unmarried.

It's a chance for you to get a wife. You might be lucky, ugly as you are."

"Pop, pop," sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and the water turned red with blood. "Pop, pop," echoed far and wide, and whole flocks of wild geese rose from the rushes. The noise came from every direction, for the hunters surrounded the moor.

Some were even sitting in tree branches overlooking the rushes. Blue smoke from the guns rose like clouds over the dark trees. As it floated away across the water, many hunting dogs bounded into the rushes, bending them down. How they terrified the poor duckling!

He turned his head away to hide it under his wing. At that moment a large, scary dog came very close. Its jaws were open, its tongue hung out, and its eyes glared fiercely. It pushed its nose near the duckling, showing its sharp teeth, and then—splash, splash—it went into the water without touching him.

"Oh," sighed the duckling, "how thankful I am for being so ugly. Even a dog won't bite me." So he lay very still while the shot rattled through the rushes and gun after gun was fired over him. It was late in the day before everything became quiet.

But even then the poor young thing didn't dare to move. He waited quietly for several hours. Then, after looking carefully around, he hurried away from the moor as fast as he could. He ran over fields and meadows until a storm came, and he could barely struggle against it.

Toward evening he reached a poor little cottage that looked ready to fall down. It only remained standing because it couldn't decide which way to fall first. The storm was so strong that the duckling couldn't go any farther.

He sat down by the cottage and noticed that the door wasn't quite closed because one of the hinges had broken. There was a narrow opening near the bottom, just big enough for him to slip through. He did so very quietly and found shelter for the night.

A woman, a tomcat, and a hen lived in this cottage. The tomcat, whom the woman called "My little son," was a great favorite. He could arch his back, purr, and even make sparks fly from his fur if it was stroked the wrong way.

The hen had very short legs, so she was called "Chickie Short Legs." She laid good eggs, and her mistress loved her as if she were her own child.

In the morning the strange visitor was discovered, and the tomcat began to purr and the hen to cluck.

"What's that noise about?" said the old woman, looking around the room. But her eyesight wasn't very good. When she saw the duckling, she thought it must be a fat duck that had strayed from home. "Oh, what a prize!" she exclaimed.

"I hope it's not a drake, because then I'll have some duck eggs. I must wait and see." So the duckling was allowed to stay on trial for three weeks, but he laid no eggs. Now the tomcat was master of the house, and the hen was mistress.

They always said, "We and the world," because they believed they were half the world—and the better half, too. The duckling thought others might have a different opinion, but the hen wouldn't listen to doubts. "Can you lay eggs?" she asked.

"No." "Then be good enough to keep quiet." "Can you arch your back, or purr, or make sparks?" said the tomcat. "No." "Then you have no right to express an opinion when sensible people are speaking." So the duckling sat in a corner, feeling very low.

But when sunshine and fresh air came through the open door, he felt such a strong desire to swim in the water that he couldn't help telling the hen.

"What a silly idea!" said the hen. "You have nothing else to do, so you get foolish notions. If you could purr or lay eggs, those fancies would go away."

"But it's so wonderful to swim on the water," said the duckling, "and so refreshing to feel it close over your head as you dive to the bottom."

"Wonderful, indeed!" said the hen. "You must be crazy! Ask the cat—he's the cleverest animal I know. Ask him how he'd like to swim on the water or dive under it. I won't even give my own opinion. Ask our mistress, the old woman—there's no one in the world smarter than she is. Do you think she'd like to swim or let the water close over her head?"

"You don't understand me," said the duckling.

"We don't understand you? Who can understand you, I wonder? Do you think you're smarter than the cat or the old woman? I won't even mention myself. Don't imagine such nonsense, child. Be grateful that you've been taken in here. Aren't you in a warm room and in company where you can learn something? But you're a chatterbox, and your company isn't very pleasant. Believe me, I'm only speaking for your own good. I may tell you unpleasant truths, but that proves my friendship. I advise you to lay eggs and learn to purr as quickly as possible."

"I think I must go out into the world again," said the duckling.

"Yes, do," said the hen.

So the duckling left the cottage and soon found water where he could swim and dive. But all other animals avoided him because of his ugly appearance. Autumn came. The leaves in the forest turned orange and gold. Then, as winter approached, the wind caught them as they fell and whirled them through the cold air. The clouds, heavy with hail and snowflakes, hung low in the sky. The raven stood on the ferns, crying, "Croak, croak." The sight made you shiver with cold. All this was very sad for the poor little duckling.

One evening, just as the sun set among radiant clouds, a large flock of beautiful birds came out of the bushes. The duckling had never seen any like them before. They were swans. They curved their graceful necks, and their soft feathers shone with dazzling whiteness.

They uttered a strange cry as they spread their glorious wings and flew away from the cold region to warmer countries across the sea. As they rose higher and higher into the air, the ugly little duckling felt a strange sensation watching them.

He whirled around in the water like a wheel, stretched his neck toward them, and let out a cry so strange that it frightened even himself. Could he ever forget those beautiful, happy birds? When at last they were out of sight, he dived under the water and came up again, almost beside himself with excitement.

He didn't know the names of those birds or where they had flown, but he felt toward them as he had never felt for any other bird. He wasn't jealous of those beautiful creatures; he only wished he could be as lovely as they. Poor ugly thing!

How gladly he would have lived even with the ducks if only they had given him some encouragement.

The winter grew colder and colder. The duckling had to swim about to keep the water from freezing, but every night the space where he swam became smaller and smaller. At last it froze so hard that the ice crackled as he moved. He had to paddle with his legs as hard as he could to keep the water from closing up. Finally, exhausted, he lay still and helpless, frozen fast in the ice.

Early in the morning, a peasant who was passing by saw what had happened. He broke the ice into pieces with his wooden shoe and carried the duckling home to his wife. The warmth revived the poor little creature.

But when the children wanted to play with him, the duckling thought they would hurt him. He started up in terror, fluttered into the milk pan, and splashed milk all over the room. The woman clapped her hands, which frightened him even more.

He flew into the butter churn, then into the flour tub, and out again. What a mess he was in! The woman screamed and hit at him with the fire tongs. The children laughed and screamed and tumbled over each other trying to catch him. Luckily he escaped. The door was open.

The poor creature managed to slip out among the bushes and lie down, exhausted, in the newly fallen snow.

It would be very sad to tell all the misery and hardship the poor little duckling suffered during the hard winter. But when winter was over, one morning he found himself lying in a moor among the rushes. He felt the warm sun shining and heard the lark singing.

Everything around was beautiful spring. Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong. He flapped them against his sides and rose high into the air. They carried him onward until he found himself in a large garden before he quite knew how it happened.

The apple trees were in full blossom. The fragrant elder trees bent their long green branches down to the stream that wound around a smooth lawn. Everything looked beautiful in the freshness of early spring.

From a thicket nearby came three beautiful white swans, rustling their feathers and swimming lightly over the smooth water.

The duckling remembered the lovely birds and felt more strangely unhappy than ever.

"I will fly to those royal birds," he said. "They will kill me because I'm so ugly and dare to approach them. But it doesn't matter. It's better to be killed by them than to be pecked by ducks, beaten by hens, pushed by the girl who feeds the poultry, or starved with hunger in winter."

Then he flew to the water and swam toward the beautiful swans. The moment they saw the stranger, they rushed to meet him with outstretched wings.

"Kill me," said the poor bird, and he bent his head down to the water, waiting to die.

But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own image—no longer a dark gray bird, ugly and unpleasant to look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan! To be born in a duck's nest, in a farmyard, doesn't matter to a bird if it is hatched from a swan's egg. He now felt glad that he had suffered so much sorrow and trouble, because it made him appreciate all the pleasure and happiness around him. The great swans swam around the newcomer and stroked his neck with their beaks in welcome.

Then some little children came into the garden and threw bread and cake into the water.

"Look," cried the youngest, "there's a new one!" The others were delighted. They ran to their father and mother, dancing and clapping their hands and shouting joyfully, "There is another swan! A new one has arrived!"

Then they threw more bread and cake into the water and said, "The new one is the most beautiful of all! He is so young and pretty!" And the old swans bowed their heads before him.

He felt quite shy and hid his head under his wing. He didn't know what to do. He was so happy, yet not at all proud. He had been bullied and despised for his ugliness, and now he heard them say he was the most beautiful of all the birds. Even the elder tree bent its branches down into the water before him. The sun shone warm and bright. Then he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and cried joyfully from the depths of his heart, "I never dreamed of such happiness when I was an ugly duckling!"