The Ugly Duckling

Once upon a time, on a cozy farm with all the fresh air a duck could ask for, a mother duck sat on her nest, waiting for her little ones to hatch. “Come on, little ducklings! I’d like to stand up before the next century!” she quacked, giving her tail feathers a little fluff.

Finally, there was a pop, and out wobbled the cutest little yellow fluffballs you’d ever see. “Quack! Quack!” said Mother Duck proudly. The ducklings looked at each other, blinked, then followed her in a wobbly line, as if they’d been doing it all their lives.

But then Mother Duck looked down. One very large egg was still sitting there like a stubborn stone. She gave it a poke with her beak. “You know, I can only sit here for so long,” she muttered, tapping her foot. After what felt like forever, the egg gave a wiggle, then a crack, then—POOF!—out popped a big, clumsy, grayish duckling.

Mother Duck blinked. “Well, you’re not quite what I expected. But can you swim?” She waddled over to the pond, ducklings toddling behind. “That’s the real question—if it swims, it’s a duck!” She looked back at her new oddball, who stumbled along, head down, feeling like a square peg in a very round world.

When they reached the pond, everyone plopped in. The water splashed, the ducklings flapped, and even the gray one floated and paddled just fine. “Not a turkey, then,” Mother Duck said, smiling. “That’s a relief!”

But back at the farm, it didn’t go as well. “Oh, look at that funny-looking one!” clucked the hens. “What happened? Fall into a bucket of gray paint?” the rooster cackled, while his siblings quacked and tried to keep their distance. The poor gray duckling felt smaller and smaller until he felt as invisible as a shadow at night. He waddled away, head down, heart heavy.

The gray duckling decided it was time to find somewhere new, somewhere no one would judge him by his feathers. Off he went, wandering through fields and woods. “Hello, out there!” he called to the wind. “Anyone who doesn’t care what I look like?”

Eventually, he found a little cottage where an old woman lived with a prissy cat and a bossy hen. They looked him up and down. “Do you lay eggs?” demanded the hen.

“Umm, no?” said the duckling, tilting his head.

“Catch mice, then?” asked the cat, flicking its tail with a smirk.

“Er, also no,” he mumbled, feeling worse by the second.

“Well, aren’t you useful!” clucked the hen. The duckling sighed, packed up his dreams, and shuffled back into the world, thinking, Why does everyone expect so much? I’m just…me!

Then came the winter, with its biting cold and frosty mornings. The duckling did his best to stay warm, swimming in icy ponds and fluffing up his feathers, but every day felt like a battle. One evening, he saw a farmer coming and thought, “Oh, maybe he’s nice!” The farmer did help him out of the freezing water, but when they got back to the farmhouse, the farmer’s children ran at him, shouting, “A goose! A goose!”—he barely escaped, flapping and squawking back into the cold.

When spring finally arrived, the duckling felt stronger. He found a calm, quiet pond and decided he’d swim there for a bit. As he paddled, he looked up and saw a group of dazzling, graceful white birds gliding across the sky.

“Wow,” he whispered. “Now, that is what you call fancy flying.” He sighed, his heart longing to join them but feeling too unsure of himself to try. Still, something inside him made him paddle closer, just to be near them.

Then, as he lowered his head to sip the water, he caught sight of his reflection—and nearly toppled over! “What… what is this?!” he squawked, staring. Gone were the awkward gray feathers; he was sleek, graceful, and as white as a cloud on a sunny day. “I… I’m a swan!” he realized, blinking in disbelief.

The other swans noticed him and swam over with friendly nods and chirps. The once-ugly duckling puffed out his chest, feeling a mix of joy, relief, and pride. Just then, a few children playing by the pond spotted him. “Look, look!” they squealed, “That’s the most beautiful swan I’ve ever seen!”

The young swan—who was once a funny gray duckling—blushed, hiding his head under his wing, feeling grateful and a little shy. Finally, he felt at home in his own feathers. And as he drifted on the pond with his new friends, he thought to himself, “It really doesn’t matter what they think… as long as I know who I am.” And that’s the way it was for him, paddling into a bright, beautiful future.

There once lived a duck on a lake so green,
With feathers that shone in a soft, warm sheen.
She waited so long, her eggs in a nest,
For each tiny duckling to crack and rest.

One by one, they chirped their first sound,
Yellow and fluffy, they gathered around.
"Quack, quack!" called Mother, her heart full of cheer,
And her ducklings followed, staying near.

But one egg, bigger, hadn’t yet cracked,
So she nestled back down, her patience stacked.
Then, at last, it cracked with a curious sight—
Out popped a duckling, gray as night.

He waddled along, feeling strange and shy,
Not like the others, try as he’d try.
But Mother said, “Let’s swim, it’s the way we’ll see;
If he floats with us, a duck he’ll be!”

To the pond they splashed, each duckling bold,
The water cool, and the world wide and cold.
The gray one swam, his heart full of glee,
But back on the farm, it was teasing he’d see.

"Look at that ugly duckling there!"
Pecked by the others, no kindness to spare.
Even his siblings would laugh and jeer,
Leaving him sad and alone with his fear.

So off he ran, across fields far and wide,
Searching for somewhere he could hide.
But all that he met, from the cat to the hen,
Told him he was “too ugly” again.

Seasons passed, with winds that bite,
The duckling shivered, hiding from sight.
One frozen day, a farmer came,
Saving him from the ice and pain.

As winter turned to skies so blue,
The duckling saw a sight so true:
Beautiful swans flew high and free,
As graceful as he dreamed he’d be.

Longing and joy filled his heart,
But he felt his looks would keep them apart.
Yet spring arrived, and he ventured near,
Gazing at waters, crystal clear.

In the pond, he saw his face,
A swan’s reflection had taken place.
No longer gray, no longer small,
Now he was beautiful, feathers and all.

Other swans swam close with cheer,
Welcoming him, holding him near.
Children pointed, filled with delight,
At the lovely swan, so pure and white.

He spread his wings, his heart anew,
Grateful for all he had journeyed through.
Now he knew, beyond skin and feather,
True beauty shines from the heart together.