A mother duck once gently settled down in a nest of straw on a sunny farm. The barn was warm and golden from the sun, and the smell of hay floated through the air like a lullaby. She was waiting quietly, her wings wrapped around a bunch of eggs.
The farm was waking up all around her. In the distance, roosters crowed, bees buzzed slowly by the open barn door, and the breeze brought the soothing sound of leaves rustling.
“Quack,” she said softly to her eggs. “Very soon, my little ones.”
The eggs started to shake one by one. Little cracks formed, and out of each shell came a yellow duckling with brilliant eyes and soft feathers that chirped.
“Quack! Quack!” they sang happily, tripping over each other as they explored the environment.
But there was still one egg left.
It was bigger than the others and didn’t even shake.
The mother duck scowled a little but stayed put.
The shell finally shook after a few hours. A loud crack pierced the silence, and a duckling emerged out that looked completely different.
He was grey. His feathers were rough, not smooth and golden. He was bigger, had a longer neck, and enormous feet.
The other ducklings were staring.
“Why do you look so strange?” one of them said with a laugh.
“You’re not one of us,” someone else said quietly.
The grey duckling blinked. He hadn’t done anything but hatch. He waddled forward with optimism, while the others moved away.
His mother duck nuzzled him softly. She replied softly, “You may not look like the others, but you are my baby, and that makes you special.”
It was hard for the grey duckling to believe her.
Not at the right place
Weeks turned into days. The ducklings got bigger and explored the farm, but the grey duckling constantly felt like it didn’t belong.
The other kids left him behind as he tried to play. When he walked by, the hens laughed at him. They clucked, “Ugly duckling.” “You’re not supposed to be here.”
He tried to help by bringing food to share or cleaning up the coop, but no one noticed.
The cat in the barn observed him with interest. “Why do you keep trying so hard?” she said one day as she lay on a hay bale.
“Because I want people to like me,” he said, staring down at his feet.
The cat turned her head. “Being different can be lonely at times.” But being different isn’t bad.
He didn’t get it all the way. Not yet.
The grey duckling sat in the barn’s corner one night, watching the stars flash softly above the rafters as the others nestled up close.
He felt a deep aching in his heart that he couldn’t name.
So, on a foggy morning, he left the only home he had ever known. He waddled quietly into the tall grass, not knowing where he was heading. He just wanted to find a place where he could fit in.
The Trip
The world was covered in gold and rust in the autumn. The grey duckling walked through meadows and woodlands while the leaves danced in the air like coins.
He ran into a lot of different animals along the route.
A grumpy toad croaked in the woods, “You’re too clumsy to hop.”
A family of mice gave him crumbs but spoke about him behind his back.
The fox sniffed and then walked away.
He was able to fly next to a family of geese that were moving. One person said nicely, “You don’t glide like us.” “But you might find someone who does.”
He saw an old owl sitting high up in a tree.
The owl asked, “What do you want, young one?”
The duckling said, “A place where I can be myself.”
The owl shook its head gently. “Keep going.” The route might show you who you are at times.
He continued on going.
The nights were frigid. He crouched down under some leaves and listened to the wind speak through the trees. He also heard songs, like frogs singing by the river, the wind rustling through reeds, and creatures laughing far away. The world still had music, even while he was alone.
The Swan Lake
Winter came in, cold and white. One day, the grey duckling found a frozen lake with reeds around the edge. The light was low, and the ice looked like glass.
There were the most graceful animals he had ever seen gliding across the river.
Swans.
They drifted like dreams, white, elegant, and calm.
The duckling gazed, and his breath caught. He wanted to talk to them and swim with them. But he was afraid.
What if they also laughed?
One swan still turned and glided closer.
“Hi there,” she murmured with a soft smile. “Are you lost?”
The duckling shook its head. “I’m just not like anyone else.” I’m not as pretty as you.
The swan turned her head. “Being beautiful isn’t about what other people think of you. It’s how you hold your heart. Come. “Come swim with us.”
He thought about it for a moment before moving on.
The water was chilly, yet it felt good. And for the first time, he felt light.
Becoming
As the days went by, the swans embraced him without question. At first, he glided across the water awkwardly, but over time he got better at it.
Selene, one of the swans, swam with him a lot.
One twilight, she murmured, “You remind me of myself when I was young.”
“But you’re perfect,” he said.
She laughed. “I fell over my own feet for a whole season.” Grace is becoming bigger.
The duckling noticed something change as the weeks went by. Not simply in his feathers, but also inside.
He wrapped a hurt sparrow in warm moss until it could fly again. He led the lost goslings back to their pond. He sung to the wind and listened when it sang back.
He began to believe in his own value, not because others told him to, but because he felt it.
And one morning, when he looked at the calm lake…
He gasped.
The grey figure that looked like a mess was gone.
There was a swan in his mirror. It had beautiful plumage, a graceful neck, and eyes that were full of silent amazement.
Was that really him?
Yes, it was.
He had not become a different person.
He had become the person he really was.
The End
Spring came back, soft and delicious. The air was full with bees and flowers. The swan, who had formerly been a lonely duckling, now swam with his new family, powerful and sure.
But a recollection pulled at his heart.
He flew back to the farm.
Mama Duck sat there by the pond’s reeds, elderly now, with silver streaks in her plumage.
She looked up and saw him.
She said, “My little one.”
He drifted close and rubbed her tenderly. “You always looked at me. Even when I couldn’t see myself.
She grinned, and her eyes sparkled. “And now you see.”
He spent the afternoon with her, telling her stories about lakes and skies, kindness he had found, and bravery he had earned. The other animals came over and watched in astonishment.
And this time, they didn’t make fun of it.
They paid attention.
They saw him.
A Wish for You
And now, my dreamer, the narrative of the swan soars up into the stars…
Always remember:
You don’t have to look like anyone else to fit in.
You are becoming more lovely on the inside and outside than you know.
And what is real beauty? It shows in how brave you are, how nice you are, and how you keep going.
Good night, dear heart.
May your dreams be full of silver lakes, soft feathers, and hearts that see you for who you are.
The End.
