THE UGLY DUCKLING
IT WAS SO LOVELY out in the country. It was
summer. The wheat was yellow. The oats were green. The hay was up
on haystacks down in the green meadows, and the stork walked there
on his long red legs speaking Egyptian, a language he had learned
from his mother. Around the fields and meadows there were big
forests, and in the middle of the forests, deep lakes. Oh yes, it
was really lovely there in the country. There was an old estate
lying there in the bright sunshine. It had deep canals around it,
and from the walls and down to the water big dock plants were
growing, so tall that small children could stand upright under the
largest of them. It was as overgrown in there as in the densest
forest, and there was a duck there sitting on her nest. She was
going to hatch her little ducklings, but she was getting tired of
it because it took so long, and she rarely had company. The other
ducks would rather swim in the canals than run up and sit under a
dock leaf to yak and quack with her.
Finally one egg after another cracked. “Peep!
Peep!” they said. All the egg yolks had become living and stuck
their heads out.
“Quack! Quack! Quick!” she said, and they all
quickly hurried the best they could and looked all around under the
green leaves. Their mother let them look around as much as they
wanted because green is good for the eyes.
“How big the world is!” all the ducklings said
because they had quite a different amount of room now than when
they were in the egg.
“Do you think this is the whole world?” asked their
mother. “It stretches way down on the other side of the garden,
right into the minister’s field! But I’ve never been there. You’re
all here, aren’t you?” And she got up. “No, I don’t have all! The
biggest egg is still lying there. How long is this going to take?
I’m getting tired of this!” And she lay down again.
“How’s it going?” asked an old duck who came to
visit.
“The one egg is taking much too long,” said the
duck who was lying there. “It won’t hatch! But look at the others!
They’re the most beautiful ducklings I’ve seen. They all look like
their father, that beast! He hasn’t come to visit me.”
“Let me see the egg that won’t hatch,” said the old
duck. “You can be sure it’s a turkey egg. I was fooled like that
one time too, and I had a lot of trouble and care with those
children because they’re afraid of water, let me tell you. I
couldn’t get them in. I quacked and snapped, but it didn’t help!
Let me see the egg. Yes, it’s a turkey egg. Just leave it lying
there and go teach the others to swim.”
“I’ll just sit here a little bit longer,” said the
duck. “Since I’ve sat here this long, I can just as well sit a
little longer.”
“Suit yourself,” said the old duck, and she
left.
Finally the big egg cracked. “Peep, peep!” said the
chick and tumbled out. He was so big and ugly. The duck looked at
him. “That is one big duckling!” she said. “None of the others look
like that. Can it be that it’s a turkey chick? Well, we’ll soon
find out about that. He’s going in the water if I have to kick him
in myself!”
The next day the weather was lovely. The sun was
shining on all the green burdock leaves. The mother duck with her
whole family went down by the canal. Splash! She jumped into the
water. “Quack, quack, quick” she said, and one duck after another
plopped in. The water covered their heads, but they came up right
away and floated very nicely. Their legs paddled instinctively, and
they were all in the water, even the ugly gray chick was swimming
along.
“No, that’s no turkey,” she said. “Look how nicely
he uses his feet, how straight he holds himself. It’s my own child!
In reality he’s really quite attractive when you look closely at
him. Quack, quack, quick! Come with me, and I’ll take you into the
world and introduce you in the hen yard, but stay close to me so no
one steps on you and watch out for the cats.”
They went into the hen yard. It was terribly noisy
there because there were two families fighting over an eel head,
but in the end the cat got it.
“See, that’s the way of the world,” said the mother
duck and licked her beak because she had also wanted the eel head.
“Now shake a leg,” she said. “Hurry over and curtsey deeply to that
old duck over there. She is the most distinguished of them all. She
has Spanish blood. That’s why she’s so stout, and notice that she
has a red cloth around her leg. That’s extremely wonderful, and the
greatest recognition a duck can have. It means so much. It means
they’ll never get rid of her, and she’ll be recognized by animals
and people—Hurry up!—Not pigeon-toed! A properly raised duckling
places his feet far apart, like father and mother. All right, now
duck from the neck and say ‘Quack!’”
And so they did, but the other ducks around looked
at them and said quite loudly, “So, now we’ll have another set, as
if there weren’t enough of us already! And ugh, how ugly that one
duckling is! We won’t tolerate him!”—And right away a duck flew
over to him and bit him in the neck.
“Leave him alone,” his mother said. “He’s not doing
anything to anyone.”
“No, but he’s too big and too odd,” said the duck
who had bitten him. “So he has to be bullied.”
“Those are lovely children mother has,” said the
old duck with the cloth around her leg. “All pretty, except that
one, who isn’t a success. I would wish she could make it over
again.”
“It can’t be done, Your Highness,” said the mother
duck. “He isn’t attractive, but he has a wonderful disposition and
swims as beautifully as the others, maybe even better. I think
he’ll grow more attractive, or maybe with time he’ll get a little
smaller. He was in the egg too long, and so he didn’t get the
correct shape.” Then she picked at his neck and smoothed him out.
“And he’s a drake after all,” she said, “so it doesn’t matter so
much. I think he’ll be strong and make a splash in the
world.”
“The other ducklings are lovely,” said the old
duck. “Make yourselves at home, and if you find an eel head, you
may bring it to me!”
And they made themselves at home.
But the poor duckling who had been last out of the
egg and who looked so dreadful was bitten, pushed, and made fun of,
by both the ducks and the chickens. “He’s too big,” they all said,
and the turkey rooster, who was born with spurs and thought he was
an emperor, blew himself up like a clipper ship under full sail,
went right up to him, gobbled at him, and turned red in the face.
The poor duckling didn’t know whether he was coming or going, and
was very sad because he was so ugly. Indeed, he was the laughing
stock of the entire hen yard.
That’s how it went the first day, and later it
became worse and worse. The poor duckling was chased by all of
them. Even his siblings were mean to him and said continually, “if
only the cat would take you, you nasty fright!” and his mother
said, “I just wish you were far away.” The ducks bit him, the
chickens pecked him, and the girl who fed the animals kicked at him
with her foot.
Then he ran and flew over the hedge. The small
birds in the bushes flew up in the air in fright. “It’s because I’m
so ugly,” thought the duckling and closed his eyes, but he ran off
anyway and came out to the big marshes where the wild ducks lived.
He lay there the whole night, tired and sorrowful.
In the morning the wild ducks flew up and looked at
the new comrade. “What kind of a fellow are you?” they said, and
the duckling turned from side to side and greeted everyone as best
he could.
“You’re remarkably ugly,” said the wild ducks, “but
it doesn’t matter to us, as long as you don’t marry into our
family.”—Poor thing! He wasn’t thinking of getting married, only
hoped he would be allowed to lie in the rushes and drink some of
the marsh water.
He lay there for two whole days. Then two wild
geese came, or rather two ganders, for they were both males, and
they hadn’t been out of the egg for long, and that’s why they were
so fresh.
“Hey fellow,” they said. “You’re so ugly that
you’re likable. Would you like to come along and migrate with us?
Right near here in another bog are some sweet wild geese—all of
them maidens who know how to quack, I tell you. You could get
lucky, even as ugly as you are!”
Just then there was a “bang! bang!” up above, and
both wild geese fell dead into the rushes, and the water turned
blood red. “Bang! bang!” sounded again, and whole flocks of wild
geese flew up from the rushes, and then there was more firing. It
was a big hunt. The hunters were lying all around the marshes. Some
were even sitting up in the tree branches that reached way out over
the rushes. The blue smoke drifted like clouds in between the dark
trees and hung far out over the water. Through the mud came the
hunting dogs: splash, splash. Rushes and reeds swayed from side to
side. It was fright ful for the poor duckling who turned his head
around to hide it under his wing, and just then a dreadfully big
dog was right by him. The tongue was hanging out of its mouth, and
the eyes were shining so terribly nastily. He brought his mouth
right down to the duckling, showed his sharp teeth and—splash!
splash! He was gone again without taking him.
“Oh, thank God,” sighed the duckling. “I’m so ugly
that even the dog can’t be bothered to bite me.”
And he lay perfectly still as the bullets whistled
in the rushes, and shot after shot rang out.
Not until late in the day was it quiet, but the
poor duckling didn’t dare get up. He waited several more hours
before he looked around, and then he hurried away from the marsh as
fast as he could. He ran over fields and meadows. It was so windy
that it was hard for him to keep going.
Towards evening he reached a humble little farmer’s
hut. It was so run down that it didn’t know itself on which side to
collapse so it remained standing. The wind was blowing so hard
around the duckling that he had to sit on his tail to avoid blowing
over, and it got worse and worse. Then he noticed that the door was
hanging on one hinge and was hanging so crookedly that he could
slip through the crack into the room, and that’s what he did.
An old woman lived there with her cat and her hen,
and the cat, whom she called Sonny, could arch his back and purr.
He could even give off sparks if you petted him against the grain.
The hen had quite small, low legs, and so she was called
Cluckie-LittleLeg. She laid good eggs, and the woman was as fond of
her as of her own child.
In the morning they noticed the foreign duckling at
once, and the cat started to purr, and the hen to cluck.
“What’s this?!” said the woman and looked all
around, but she didn’t see very well, and so she thought the
duckling was a fat run-away duck. “This is a rare find,” she said.
“Now I can have duck eggs, as long as it’s not a drake. We’ll have
to find out.”
So the duckling was put on a three week trial, but
no eggs appeared. The cat was the head of the household, and the
hen was the mistress, and they said all the time, “We and
the world” because they thought that they were half of it, and that
the best half. The duckling thought there might be another opinion,
but the hen wouldn’t tolerate that.
“Can you lay eggs?” she asked.
“No.”
“Well then, keep your mouth shut.”
And the cat said, “Can you arch your back, purr,
and give off sparks?”
“No.”
“Well then you can’t have an opinion when sensible
people are talking.”
And the duckling sat in the corner in a bad mood.
He started thinking about the fresh air and sunshine and had such a
great longing to float on the water. At last he couldn’t help it,
he had to tell the hen.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked. “You don’t
have anything to do, that’s why you get these wild ideas. Lay eggs
or purr, and it’ll pass.”
“But it’s so lovely to float on the water,” said
the duckling. “So lovely to have it wash over your head and dive
down to the bottom.”
“Sure, that’s a great pleasure,” said the hen.
“You’ve gone completely crazy! Just ask the cat—he’s the wisest one
I know—if he likes floating on the water or diving. I won’t speak
about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman. No one in the world
is wiser than she is. Do you think she wants to float and have
water gush over her head?”
“You don’t understand me!” said the duckling.
“Well, if we don’t understand you, who would?
You’ll certainly never be wiser than the cat or the woman, not to
mention me! Don’t make a fuss, child! And thank your creator for
all the good that’s been done for you. Haven’t you come to a warm
house and companions you can learn from? But you’re a fool, and it
isn’t fun to hang around with you. Believe me, it’s for your own
good that I tell you these unpleasant things, and it’s how you can
tell your true friends. Just take care to lay eggs, or learn to
purr or give off sparks!”
“I believe I’ll go into the wide world,” said the
duckling.
“Yes, you just do that,” said the hen.
And so the duckling went. He floated on the water,
and dove into it, but all the animals shunned him because of his
ugliness.
Then autumn came. The leaves in the woods turned
yellow and brown. The wind picked them up so they danced around,
and the air looked cold. The clouds were heavy with hail and
snowflakes, and on the fence the raven sat and cried, “Ow! Ow!”
from the cold. You could really freeze if you thought about it, and
the poor duckling truly was having a hard time.
One evening when there was a lovely sunset, a whole
flock of beautiful big birds came out of the bushes. The duckling
had never seen any more lovely. They were a quite shiny white with
long supple necks. They were swans, and they uttered some really
astonishing sounds, spread out their wide magnif icent wings, and
flew away from the cold climes to warmer lands, to open waters.
They rose so high, so high, and the little ugly duckling became so
strangely happy. He turned around in the water like a wheel,
stretched his neck high up in the air towards them, and uttered a
cry so loud and strange that it frightened him when he heard it.
Oh, he couldn’t forget the beautiful birds—the happy birds—and as
soon as they were out of sight, he dove straight to the bottom.
When he came up again, he was quite beside himself. He didn’t know
what the birds were called, nor where they were going, but still he
loved them as he had never loved anyone. He didn’t envy them. How
could it occur to him to wish for such beauty? He would have been
happy if only the ducks would have accepted him amongst them—the
poor ugly animal!
And the winter was cold, so cold. The duckling had
to swim around in the water to keep it from freezing solid, but
every night the hole where he was swimming got smaller and smaller.
The ice froze so it cracked. The duckling had to keep moving his
legs to keep the ice from closing in. Finally he weakened, lay
quite still, and froze into the ice.
Early in the morning a farmer came by, saw him,
went out and kicked the ice in pieces with his wooden shoe, and
carried him home to his wife where the duckling revived.
The children wanted to play with him, but the
duckling thought they wanted to hurt him and flew in fright right
up into the milk bowl so the milk splashed out into the room. The
woman screamed and threw up her arms, and then he flew into the
trough where the butter was and then down into the flour barrel and
up again. What a sight he was! And the woman screamed and hit at
him with the bellows, and the children ran here and there trying to
catch the duckling, laughing and shrieking! Luckily the door stood
open; out he flew through the bushes to the newly fallen snow, and
there he lay in a swoon.
But it would be far too sad to tell all the
suffering and misery he had to endure during that hard winter. When
the sun started to warm up again, he was lying in the rushes
between the reeds. The larks were singing, and it was spring,
lovely springtime.
Then he lifted his wings all at once. They were
stronger than before and carried him powerfully away, and before he
knew it, he was in a big garden where apple trees were blooming,
and where the lilacs smelled sweet and hung on long green branches
right down towards the meandering canals. Oh, it was lovely there,
so fresh and newly green, and right in front of him out of the
thicket came three lovely white swans. They ruffled up their
feathers and floated so lightly on the water. The duckling
recognized the magnificent animals and was filled with a strange
melancholy.
“I’ll fly over to them, those regal animals, and
they’ll peck me to death because I who am so ugly dare approach
them. But it doesn’t matter. Better to be killed by them than to be
nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked by the girl who
watches the hen yard, and suffer in the winter.” So he flew onto
the water and swam towards the splendid swans. They saw him and
plunged towards him with ruffled feathers. ”Just kill me,” said the
poor bird, and he bent his head down towards the surface of the
water and waited for death—but what did he see in the clear water?
He saw his own reflection, and he was no longer a clumsy dark grey
bird, ugly and nasty. He was himself a swan.
“The newest one is the prettiest!”

You see, it doesn’t matter whether you’re born in a
duck yard as long as you’ve lain in a swan’s egg!
He felt truly glad about all the distress and
tribulations he had suffered. He understood his happiness now, and
all the beauty that greeted him. And the big swans swam around him
and stroked him with their beaks.
Some small children came into the garden. They
threw bread and grain out into the water, and the smallest one
cried:
“There’s a new one!”
And the other children chimed in, “yes, there’s a
new one!” They clapped their hands and danced around, ran after
their father and mother, and bread and cakes were thrown in the
water, and they all said, “The newest one is the prettiest! So
young and so lovely.” And the old swans bowed to him.
Then he felt quite bashful and stuck his head
behind his wings. He didn’t himself quite know why. He was too
happy, but not at all proud because a good heart is never proud. He
thought about how he had been pursued and persecuted and now heard
everyone say that he was the most lovely of all the beautiful
birds, and the lilacs bowed down their branches right down to the
water to him, and the sun shone so warm and good. He ruffled his
feathers, lifted his slender neck, and from his heart he rejoiced,
“I never dreamed of this much happiness when I was the ugly
duckling.”