Duckstar
Hazel Edwards and
Christine Anketell
Illustrations by Mini Goss
IP Kidz
Brisbane
IP Kidz
an imprint of IP (Interactive Publications Pty Ltd)
Treetop Studio • 9 Kuhler Court
Carindale, Queensland, Australia 4152
[email protected]
ipoz.biz/IP_Kidz/Kidz.htm
First published by Oxford Press in 2002
2nd edition published by IP in 2010
© Hazel Edwards and Christine Anketell, 2010 (text)
© Mini Goss, 2010 (illustrations)
ePub edition, 2010
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
Printed in 12 pt Book Antiqua on 14 pt Myriad Pro.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Author: Edwards, Hazel, 1945-
Title: Duckstar ; and, Cyberfarm / Hazel Edwards and
Christine Anketell; illustrations by Mini Goss.
Edition: 2nd ed.
ISBN: 9781921479588 (ebk)
Series: Duckstar.
Target Audience: For primary school age.
Subjects: Ducks--Juvenile fiction.
Other Authors/Contributors: Goss, Mini.
Anketell, Christine.
Edwards, Hazel, 1945- Cyberfarm.
Dewey Number: A823.3
Cover and internal illustrations by Mini Goss
Book and cover design by Anna Bartlett
Chapter 1
Goodbye and Hello
‘Welcome, Duck. I’m Caitlin, but everyone calls me Cate. I’m the Farm Caretaker.’
Putting down her bucket, Cate shook wings with Duck.
Duck poked his head into the bucket.
It smelt delicious. Bready and fruity with sultanas. He loved sultanas. He leant in further.
His tail went up and he fell headfirst into the warm, fruity porridge.
‘Help!’
Cate pulled him out. Duck was covered in porridge and sultanas.
Even his voice was porridgy.
‘Qu…eee….cc…kkk…k.’
Cate washed him under the yard tap. ‘Can’t waste sultanas. The farm needs money to fix things up, the Health and Safety Inspector said so. Otherwise we’ll be closed down in a month.’
‘What sort of things?’ wondered Duck.
Cate pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It read:
Safety Report
Fix these or the farm will close.
Smelly toilets.
Pond needs fence.
Duckboards over mud.
Signed
Mr Safe T. Rex
‘We need duckboards over the mud so kids don’t slip in wet weather.’
Duck liked the idea of duckboards.
‘Wheelchair access. New toilets — our old ones stink! It all costs heaps.’
Cate checked the bucket. ‘Oh good, there’s still enough there.’
‘What for?’
‘Pig likes his porridge on time.’
‘Does Pig eat porridge for dinner?’ asked Duck.
‘Pig eats sultana porridge ANY time. It’s his favourite treat.’
Duck followed Cate’s boots to the pigpen. Pig’s big snout poked through the wooden fence.
Cate poured porridge into his dish. Pig gobbled, without even a thank you. No manners, thought Duck.
Pig coughed. Out popped a large, yellow feather.
Duck and Cate looked at each other.
‘What is a yellow feather doing in my porridge?’ grunted Pig.
‘It’s mine.’
‘What’s your duck feather doing in my porridge?’
‘I fell into it,’ said Duck.
‘Do you always let other animals bath in my dinner?’ asked Pig.
‘It was an accident.’ Cate wiped the feather on her rainbow overalls and stuck it in her hair.
‘Listen, Duck. Stay away from my dinner,’ warned Pig.
‘Will you be my friend?’ begged Duck.
‘Maybe.’ Pig gobbled. ’Hey, there’s only six sultanas in this porridge, Cate.’
‘We’re cutting back on luxuries.’
‘Six sultanas are a luxury?’ Pig couldn’t believe his ears.
‘Come along, Duck, let’s collect the eggs.’
‘Pig didn’t make me feel very welcome,’ said Duck.
‘It takes time to get to know Pig,’ said Cate.
Cate picked up a sack and a bucket of cabbage leaves and carefully opened the hen house door.
Rich smells hit Duck’s nose. Hay. Wholemeal bread. Eggs. Inside were brown, black and white squawking chickens.
Cate threw leaves onto the ground, poured grain and filled bowls with fresh water.
Two brown eggs nestled in a hollow of the straw. Cate put the eggs into her bucket. After feeding the hens, Cate and Duck entered the largest barn. It smelt of woodsmoke and wool.
‘My favourite spot is beside the fireplace. Would you like to sleep here?’ Cate pointed to the wooden rocking chair with a saggy, purple cushion. Duck noticed the coffee stains. Cate laughed. ‘Yes, I am a bit messy. Daytime, it’s mine. You can have the night shift.’
Duck flew up onto the chair. It wobbled. So did Duck. He went forward. Then back. The rocking got faster and stronger. Duck couldn’t balance.
The chair rocked and hurled him into the fireplace ashes. His wings felt ashy and so did his feet.
Cate laughed so much that she had to wipe her eyes.
‘Oh Duck, you are so funny, you should be on TV.’ Cate hugged him. ‘Let’s have dinner now before you get into more strife.’
THINGS I SHOULD HAVE DONE YESTERDAY! said the sign on the fridge. Duck giggled. He definitely liked Cate.
Then he looked back. Ashy footprints marked his trail.
‘Don’t worry, Duck, I’ll clean it up in the morning,’ Cate said as she stirred the pot on the stove. It smelt delicious.
Duck felt at home.
Chapter 2
Night Noises
After dinner Duck tackled the rocker again. If he didn’t move too fast, it was okay. He settled down to dream about being a TV star.
Clunk. Crash!
Duck sat up. Moonlight shone through the door. Very weird noises came from a pen at the opposite end of the barn.
Duck told himself he was brave. Or he would be, if whatever was making the noise was friendly.
He tiptoed down the barn, poked his beak around the wooden pillar, looked inside the pen and saw...
a goat dancing with four tin cans on his feet and a sheep, with a walkman hanging from its neck, trying to sing while it shone a torch on the goat.
Clunk. Crash.
Tap. Tap. Bang.
There it was again!
Duck shook his feathers. It wasn’t a nightmare.
‘Excuse me.’ But they couldn’t hear Duck over the tin cans and the walkman.
Clunk. Tap.
Tap. Tap. Bang.
‘QUACK!’ Duck let out his loudest quack.
Sheep shone the torch on Duck.
‘Oh dear,’ moaned Goat. ‘How embarrassing.’
‘You must be the new duck. We haven’t met,’ said Sheep, just as the headphones fell off and the walkman crashed to the ground.
‘My name’s Duck. Why are you... er... dancing in the middle of the night?’
‘We’re practising,’ said G
oat.
‘Practising?’ asked Duck. ‘For what?’
‘We want to go on “Star Quest”, the TV talent show. Then we’ll win money for the farm and be able to entertain the children,’ said Goat.
‘Don’t they like you just as you are?’ asked Duck.
‘Well,’ bleated Sheep. ‘Yesterday, Goat heard the word “boring”. Some children asked their mother when the tigers and elephants were coming.’
‘So what do you do when the children come to see you?’ Duck was really interested.
‘I say my “Baas” clearly and make sure my wool is curly,’ said Sheep.
‘Stand up straight, keep our straw clean and try not to frighten the children,’ added Goat.
‘Is that all you do?’ asked Duck politely.
‘It’s been enough up until now,’ said Sheep.
‘I think I understand the problem,’ nodded Duck.
‘We practise at night,’ said Goat.
‘Why?’ asked Duck.
‘Imagine what Pig would say if he saw us,’ explained Goat.
‘We can’t be boring. Horse gives the children rides and Cow provides milkshakes, and Parrot talks to visitors,’ said Sheep.
‘Mind you, he only asks for crackers,’ said Goat.
‘I haven’t met them yet, ‘said Duck.
‘You will. They know you’re here,’ smiled Sheep.
‘I won’t laugh at you,’ promised Duck.
‘Wonderful. An audience,’ said Goat.
‘My torch batteries just died,’ said Sheep.
‘Use the moon.’ Duck flew up onto the railing to be an audience.
In the moonlight, Goat and Sheep performed.
It was dreadful. What could Duck say? When they had finished Goat and Sheep bowed.
Duck clapped. He had to.
‘What d’you think?’ asked Sheep.
Duck thought.
‘It must have been awful,’ said Goat. ‘He’s being polite.’
Duck knew he had to say something.
‘You’ve got good ideas.’ He paused. ‘I might be able to help you. I was in the school play.’
‘You’ve performed before?’ asked Goat.
‘Yes. I played the third camel in the Christmas play,’ said Duck.
‘I played a sheep in a Parade once,’ said Sheep.
‘I’ve never been in anything,’ said Goat.
‘Duck, you could be our Director,’ said Sheep.
Duck liked that idea.
Later, Duck snuggled on a cushion. Could they go on TV to raise money to help the farm?
Chapter 3
Quack Snack Attacks
Duck felt a peck.
‘Good morning,’ said a voice above him. ‘I’m Parrot. Anything you want to know, I’ll tell you.’
‘I thought you only said “Polly want a cracker”,’ said Duck.
‘It’s expected. Come on, I’ll show you around.’
Duck flip-flopped, while Parrot squawked through the vegetable patch. As the morning sun shone on the puddles, Duck jumped in each one. He loved watching the water pictures go splat!
‘Hey, there’s a snail on the cabbage leaf. Why don’t you eat it?’ suggested Parrot.
‘Does he want me to?’ asked Duck.
‘Ducks eat snails. You don’t ask your dinner if it wants to be eaten,’ chuckled Parrot. ‘Are you a vegetarian duck?’
Duck wasn’t sure. ‘I don’t think I’ll eat the snail.’
‘Thank you,’ said Snail and he moved on.
Suddenly, a creature raced around the corner. It was large with orange blotches, scars and spiky whiskers. There was a wild look in its eyes.
‘Screee — ach!’ Its back arched and its whiskers stuck up.
Parrot squawked, ‘It’s the Feral. Follow me.’
Parrot flew onto the lowest branch of the gum tree. Duck’s wings fluttered, his legs stretched, but he couldn’t get his body into the air.
The Feral lunged.
Parrot screeched, ‘Oh no! Duck! Juuuu........mp!’‘
Duck took a running jump at the branch. His wings flapped. His legs lifted. He got off the ground but something clawed at his tail feathers and was dragging him down. Duck twisted in mid air and grabbed at the branch. Got it! Parrot hauled him into the tree by his wing.
The Feral screamed and hurtled off.
Duck looked down. One tail-feather was in the mud, another in a puddle. He’d left a bit of himself behind.
‘Lucky! ’ said Parrot. ‘You were nearly Feral’s breakfast.’
Duck’s heart pounded. ‘Who... was THAT?’
‘The Feral Peril,’ replied Parrot. ‘It prowls at night.’
‘It isn’t night now,’ panted Duck.
‘It must have been disturbed.’ Parrot smoothed his feathers.
‘I lost only two feathers,’ said Duck. ‘I was lucky.’
‘This time,’ warned Parrot.
‘You were lucky,’ said a loud voice.
Duck looked down between the branches.
‘Hullo Cow,’ said Parrot. ‘Is it safe to come down?’
‘Yes,’ said Cow. ‘The Feral was prowling last night and ate a chicken. So you’re the new duck. Welcome.’
‘News travels fast around here,’ said Duck.
‘Not as fast as Cate.’ Parrot pointed up the path. Cate raced towards them waving a letter.
‘We’re saved! We’ve got permission to do a TV Commercial here!’
‘Why didn’t you tell us earlier?’ asked Parrot.
‘Wasn’t definite. They’re coming on Wednesday. You’re going to be TV stars! The farm will get a fee for being a location.’
‘Do we get paid?’ asked Parrot.
‘Yes,’ said Cate. ‘Everyone in the commercial gets paid.’
‘Use my fee for the farm,’ said Cow.
‘Mine too,’ said Duck.
Parrot looked the other way.
‘Thank you,’ said Cate. ‘The TV crew is filming a Fake-Yo commercial. I hope nothing goes wrong.’
‘Will Sheep and Goat want to be in the commercial?’ asked Cow.
‘They’ll need some help,’ said Duck.
Everyone nodded.
Duck’s idea was going to happen — they were making a TV commercial. He might be a director.
Chapter 4
Rolling Along
The TV crew arrived before the sun was up. Duck was woken by voices. Reading late last night he’d nearly finished Cate’s How to Make TV Commercials book. Anyway, he’d looked at all the pictures and he knew the jargon.
Cans rattled. Trucks beeped as they backed into the yard. The smell of warm toast wafted from the snack van. The TV crew was having breakfast.
Duck followed the smell into the yard. People were gathered around the snack van sipping from hot, steaming mugs and munching buttery toast.
Parrot enjoyed squawking ‘Polly want a cracker’ and being fed toast.
Hot spot lights on poles were lighting up pretend-green grass and bales of real hay. Boxes of Fake-Yo were being unpacked. In the middle of this fake farm scene stood Cow with a large, pink ribbon around her neck. She looked embarrassed. Make-Up was combing Cow’s tail and powdering her nose.
‘I have to make you beautiful for the camera,’ Make-Up said. ‘You have a cameo role — that’s a small part. You look gorgeous.’
She packed her brushes and headed towards the purple and white caravan.
Duck waddled up to Cow, holding a list he’d borrowed from the caravan door.
‘I’m working,’ said Cow.
‘So I see,’ said Duck. ‘You’re on the Call Sheet.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Cow.
Duck waved the list. ‘Scenes to be filmed today. The Director writes it.’
‘Oh, then I AM important,’ said Cow proudly. ‘Who else is in the commercial?’
‘Cate said the Director will choose on the day,’ said Duck.
‘Lots of people here today,’ said Cow. ‘M
ake-Up had me up at 4.00 am.’
‘Yes, some people work behind the camera, like the Director and Best Boy,’ said Duck, trying to remember the jargon he’d read.
‘What’s a Best Boy? ’
‘Best Boy, Best Girl. Doesn’t matter. They are second in charge of lighting,’ said Duck.
‘Who’s first in charge?’ asked Cow.
‘The Gaffer is in charge of lighting,’ said Duck.
‘I’ll be that — no-one’s putting powder on my snout!’ Pig had just arrived on the scene.
‘You can’t. That’s a people job,’ said Duck.
‘Hmmph,’ snorted Pig. ‘Who ever saw plastic grass on a farm?’ He stomped back to his pen.
‘Don’t worry,’ whispered Cow, ‘Pig is a bit of a ham actor.’
Parrot flew across the yard spraying toast crumbs.
‘Duck, what’s that long black perch the man is carrying? People talk into it.’
‘That’s a mike, the Boom Operator holds it,’ said Duck, hoping Parrot wouldn’t ask any more. He hadn’t read the last chapter of How to Make TV Commercials.
‘You don’t need a mike to hear me,’ said Parrot proudly.
‘I know,’ said Cow.
‘Get that duck off my grass!’ yelled a Voice.
Duck looked around to see who they were talking about.
‘He’s putting muddy web-marks all over my Astro-turf,’ shouted the Voice.
‘Fake grass,’ moaned Cow.
Duck realised they were talking about him. Next thing, arms picked him up and plonked him beside the caravan. He pinned the Call Sheet back on the door — just in case.
‘Keep the animals away until I need them,’ grumbled the Voice.
In the yard stood a man wearing jeans and a black leather coat. He wore a baseball cap on backwards. His sneakers looked very new.
DuckStar / Cyberfarm Page 1
