by Paulo Coelho
Finally one egg cracked open after the other. ‘Peep! Peep!’ they said. All the egg yolks had come alive and were sticking out their heads.
‘Quack! Quack!’ she said, and they all rushed out as fast as they could and looked all around under the green leaves. Their mother let them look as much as they liked, because green is good for the eyes.
‘How big the world is!’ said all the youngsters, because now they had quite a bit more room than when they were lying inside the eggs.
‘You think this is the whole world?’ said their mother. ‘It stretches far away to the other side of the garden, all the way to the pastor’s field, although I’ve never been that far. But you’re all here now, aren’t you?’ And then she got up. ‘No, I don’t have all of you. The biggest egg is still lying here. How long is it going to take? I’m getting very tired of this!’ And then she sat down again.
‘So, how’s it going?’ said an old duck who came to visit.
‘One egg is taking such a long time,’ said the duck on the nest. ‘It won’t crack open. But take a look at the others. They’re the loveliest ducklings I’ve ever seen! They all look like their father, that rogue who never comes to see me.’
‘Let me look at the egg that won’t crack open,’ said the old duck. ‘I’ll bet it’s a turkey egg! I was once fooled like that myself, and I had my share of troubles with those youngsters, because they’re afraid of the water, let me tell you. I couldn’t get them to go in. I quacked and snapped, but it did no good. Let me see that egg. It’s a turkey egg, all right! Just leave it here and go teach the other children to swim.’
‘I think I’ll sit on it for a while longer,’ said the duck. ‘I’ve been sitting here this long, I might as well sit here the rest of the summer.’
‘Be my guest,’ said the old duck, and then she left.
Finally the big egg cracked open. ‘Peep! Peep!’ said the youngster and tumbled out. He was so big and hideous. The duck looked at him. ‘That’s certainly an awfully big duckling,’ she said. ‘None of the others look like that. He couldn’t be a turkey chick, could he? Well, we shall soon see! Into the water he goes, even if I have to kick him in myself.’
The next day the weather was gloriously beautiful. The sun shone on all the green dock plants. The mother duck and her whole family went down to the moat. Splash! She jumped into the water. ‘Quack! Quack!’ she said, and one duckling after the other plopped in. The water washed over their heads, but they popped up at once and floated around so beautifully. Their legs moved on their own and all of them were in the water; even the hideous grey youngster was swimming along.
‘No, he’s not a turkey,’ she said. ‘Look how beautifully he uses his legs, how erect he holds himself! That’s my child! Actually he’s quite handsome if you take a good look. Quack! Quack! Come along with me, and I’ll take you out into the world and introduce you to the duck yard. But stay close to me so that no one steps on you, and watch out for the cats.’
And then they went into the duck yard. There was a terrible ruckus going on because two families were fighting over an eel head, and then the cat ended up getting it.
‘See, that’s how things go in the world,’ said the mother duck, licking her bill, because she too would have liked to have had that eel head. ‘Use your legs now,’ she said. ‘See if you can’t hurry it up, and dip your necks to the old duck over there. She’s the most refined of anyone here. She has Spanish blood, that’s why she’s so fat. And see there: she has a red rag around her leg. That’s a remarkably lovely thing and the highest honour any duck can be given. She’s so important that they won’t get rid of her, and both animals and humans must respect her. Hurry up! Don’t put your legs together. A well-mannered duckling keeps his legs far apart, just like Father and Mother. Come on! Now dip your neck and say, “Quack!” ’
And that’s what they did. But the other ducks standing around looked at them and said quite loudly, ‘Look at this! Now we’ve got to deal with that bunch too. As if there weren’t enough of us already. And ugh, just take a look at that duckling! We’re not going to put up with him!’ And one of the ducks flew over and promptly bit him on the back of the neck.
‘Leave him alone!’ said the mother. ‘He’s not hurting anyone!’
‘Yes, but he’s too big and too odd looking,’ said the duck who had bitten him. ‘So he’s going to be pushed around.’
‘What handsome children that mother has!’ said the old duck with the rag around her leg. ‘All of them so handsome except for one; that one certainly didn’t turn out too well. I wish she could hatch that one over again.’
‘That’s not possible, Your Grace,’ said the mother duck. ‘He may not be handsome, but he has a genuinely good nature, and he swims as beautifully as any of the others; yes, I’d venture to say even a little better. I think he’ll be handsome when he grows up, or with time he might get a little smaller. He was too long in the egg, and that’s why he isn’t the right shape.’ Then she plucked at the back of his neck and smoothed out his feathers. ‘Besides, he’s a drake,’ she said, ‘so it doesn’t matter as much. I think he’ll turn out to be strong, and I’m sure he’ll win a place for himself.’
‘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.
‘Well, if we don’t understand you, then who does? You’ll never be smarter than the cat or the old woman, not to mention myself. Stop making a fuss, child! And thank your Creator for all the kindness that has been shown to you. Haven’t you ended up in a warm house, with companions that you can learn something from? But you’re a fool, and it’s not amusing to be around you. Believe me, it’s for your own good that I’m telling you these unpleasant things. That’s how you know who your true friends are. So see to it that you lay eggs and learn to purr and throw sparks.’
‘I think I’ll go out into the wide world,’ said the duckling.
‘Well, go ahead!’ said the hen.
And so the duckling left. He floated on the water, then dove down, but all the animals ignored him because he was ugly.
Then autumn came, the leaves in the forest turned brown and yellow, the wind seized hold of them so they danced around, and the sky looked cold. The clouds hung heavy with hail and snow-flakes, and on the fence stood a raven, shrieking ‘Ow! Ow!’ from sheer cold. Yes, you could end up freezing just by thinking about it. Things certainly weren’t going well for the poor duckling.
One evening as the sun was setting gloriously, a whole flock of lovely big birds came out of the thickets. The duckling had never seen anything so beautiful. They were a dazzling white, with long supple necks. They were swans. They uttered quite a wondrous sound, spread out their magnificent long wings, and flew away from the cold regions to the warmer countries, to open waters. They climbed so high, so high, and the little ugly duckling felt quite strange. He spun around in the water like a wheel, stretching his neck high up into the air after them, uttering a cry so loud and strange that it scared even him. Oh, he couldn’t forget those lovely birds, those happy birds. As soon as he lost sight of them, he dove straight down to the bottom, and when he came back up, he was practically beside himself. He didn’t know what those birds were called or where they were flying, but he loved them as he had never loved anyone else. He didn’t envy them in the least; how could he even think of wishing for such loveliness? He would have been happy if the ducks had merely allowed him to stay among them. The poor ugly creature!
And the winter was so cold, so cold. The duckling had to swim around in the water to keep it from freezing over. But every night the hole in which he was swimming grew smaller and smaller. It froze so hard that the icy crust crackled. The duckling had to keep moving his legs or the water would close up. At last he grew so weak that he lay quite still and then was frozen into the ice.
Early in the morning a farmer appeared. He saw the duckling, went out, smashed the ice to bits with his wooden clog, and carried the bird home to his wife. There the duckling was revived.
The children wanted to play with him, but the duckling thought they were trying to hurt him and flew in terror right into the milk basin so the milk splashed all over the room. The farmer’s wife screamed and flapped her hands in the air. Then the duckling flew into the trough of butter and then into the flour barrel and out again. What a sight he was! The farmer’s wife screamed and swung at him with the hearth tongs, and the children tumbled all over each other to catch the duckling, as they laughed and shrieked. It was a good thing that the door stood open. Out he rushed into the bushes in the newly fallen snow. There he lay, as if in a daze.
But it would be much too sad to recount all the suffering and misery he had to endure that harsh winter. He was lying in the marsh among the rushes when the sunshine once again began to feel warm. The larks sang. It was lovely springtime.
Then all of a sudden he lifted his wings; they flapped stronger than before and powerfully carried him away. And before he even knew it, he was in a great garden where the apple trees stood in bloom, where the lilacs hung fragrantly on their long green boughs all the way down to the winding waterways. Oh, it was so lovely there, so springtime fresh! And right in front of him, out of the thickets, came three lovely white swans. They ruffled their feathers and floated so lightly on the water. The duckling recognized the magnificent creatures and was stirred by a strange sadness.
‘I’ll fly over to them, those royal birds. And they’ll peck me to death because someone like me, who is so hideous, dares approach them. But it doesn’t matter! Better to be killed b
y them than to be nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked by the maid who tends the chicken coops, and to suffer so terribly all winter.’ And be flew out into the water and swam over to the magnificent swans. They saw him and came gliding toward him with ruffled feathers. ‘Go ahead and kill me!’ said the poor bird, and he bent his head down to the surface of the water and waited for death. But what did he see in the clear water? He saw beneath him his own image, and he was no longer a clumsy, greyish-black bird, horrid and hideous. He was a swan!
It doesn’t matter if you’re born in a duck yard when you’ve been lying inside a swan’s egg.
He actually felt glad about all the suffering and hardships he had endured. Now he could appreciate his happiness and all the loveliness that awaited him. And the great swans swam all around him, stroking him with their bills.
Several little children came into the garden. They threw bread and grain into the water, and the youngest of them cried, ‘There’s a new one!’
And the other children also shouted joyfully, ‘Yes, a new one has arrived!’ And they clapped their hands and danced around. They ran to find Father and Mother. Bread and cakes were tossed into the water, and they all said, ‘The new one is the most beautiful of all! So young and so lovely!’ And the old swans bowed to him.
Then he felt quite bashful and tucked his head behind his wings. He didn’t know what to make of it. He was much too happy, but not the least bit proud, because a good heart is never proud. He thought about how he had been badgered and scorned, and now he heard everyone say that he was the loveliest of all the lovely birds. The lilacs dipped their boughs all the way down to him in the water, and the sun shone so warm and so fine. Then he ruffled his feathers, raised his slender neck, and rejoiced with all his heart. ‘I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was the ugly duckling!’
