Once upon a time, near a crystal-clear lake, under a vibrant blue sky, a mother duck sat waiting on her nest. Other mothers were already out and about, swimming to and fro with their hatchlings in tow. But this mother sat worried, her eggs unmoving, and feared they would grow cold beneath her. How could she face the other birds then?

“Oh, you’ll get it next time,” the loon would say, condescending.

“It’s never too late to try again,” the swan would offer, snickering.

“Eggs are never in short supply,” the goose might add, and then she’d probably defecate nearby. The mother duck did not like the goose very much.

The duck was in a real crisis. So one night, as she sat on her nest beneath the stars, she searched out the brightest star in the Big Flipper, the best of the duck constellations, and made a wish.

“I wish,” she whispered, “with all my might, that even one egg hatches tonight. Come what may, please make this right.” And with that she went to sleep.

In the morning, she was awoken by a squirming beneath her, and to her great joy, the mother duck stood up to observe her brood. However, what met her eyes was not what she had expected. Her nest was filled with empty eggshells, but among them was the ugliest duckling her eyes had ever seen.

It was fat, much bigger than any other duckling, and it had no feathers. Its skin was scaly, and dark green, and its mouth was long and fang-filled. Its eyes had vertical pupils, and it had no wings, only four stubby legs and a tapering tail. It sat unevenly, staring up at its mother. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Suddenly, a voice piped up over her shoulder.

“Why, isn’t that a peculiar little thing!” It was the goose, always the first to barge in on anyone’s business. The duck looked at her domineering neighbor with a grimace, unsure of how to respond. To make matters worse, she could see that the goose was preparing to leave her signature insult next to the nest. Before the duck could say anything, a snapping sound rang through the air.

“Ow-ow-ow!” honked the goose. The duck looked to see the cause of the outburst. Her duckling had crawled out of the nest and bitten the goose’s leg with its rows of sharp teeth! The goose ran, flailing about in any attempt to dislodge the ferocious baby from her leg. Finally, she dove headfirst into the water, swimming frantically away. The mother duck watched anxiously. At length, she saw her little duckling swimming happily towards the shore, where he marched back over to the nest and settled in as though nothing had happened, dozing off. She blinked at him and smiled. He certainly was peculiar.

As days and weeks went by, the duck found her duckling to be even more peculiar than had been supposed. For one thing, he grew very quickly, and ate at an alarming rate. While the mother duck swam with her duckling, the other birds became fearful.

“Isn’t he growing quite large for his age?” the loon sniped. The duckling swatted her with his tail and sent her flying. This caused the duck to giggle, though she felt a bit guilty.

“My, he’s quite the glutton,” the swan snarked snidely. And in an instant, the duckling had snapped her up in his jaws. And as for the goose, she knew better than to bother the mother duck or her duckling anymore.

And so they lived quite comfortably, with the lake to themselves and no rude neighbors. And the mother duck loved her duckling. Her ugliest duckling.

Graphic by Patrick Higgins | The Oswegonian