There was a farm on the edge of the moor. Aside from the normal produce, people could also pay a small sum to adopt, and bring home, any one of the animals on the farm.
Every Saturday, the farmer opened the gates that were normally closed, and put up a large sign which invited animal lovers in. He would then shoo his animals out, and prod the sleepier ones so that they might better endear themselves to visitors.
One of the Ducklings was very perceptive, and it occurred to him that he had none of the charms, skills or antics of the other animals. Waddlequack! he thought, I need to improve myself! Or no one would want me!
The Duckling thus begged the Rooster to teach him how to strut. Cockakoo! crowed the Rooster, do you not waddle perfectly well already? But the Duckling was insistent. It is true that I can waddle pretty well, he said, but your strut is a most majestic way to walk too!
The Duckling also entreated the Sheep to teach him how to bleat. Whyforeeee! bleated the Sheep, you are good at quacking your native quack! But the Duckling was insistent. It is true that I can quack pretty well, he said, but it is not better if I knew how to bleat too?
The Duckling also requested the Cow to teach him how to give milk. Whatthemooo? went the Cow, you are really better off… not giving milk! But the Duckling was insistent. It is true that… I am not good at giving milk, he said, but isn’t that all the more reason to make an effort to?
And so the Duckling went around the farm trying his best to learn from the other animals.
When Friday night came, the Duckling fell asleep, exhausted at rehearsing all that he had learned in preparation for Saturday.
The next day, the Duckling was the first out on the field, and when the visitors started coming in, he proudly displayed all the various skills he had acquired. Who could possibly resist me, he thought, when I am all that the other animals are too?
The hours went by, a number of animals changed hands, and yet no one had requested to bring the Duckling home. As closing time loomed, a little girl ran towards the pond where the Duckling was. This encouraged him to once again show off all that he had learned, despite all the disappointment already saddling his heart.
The little girl stared at the Duckling in puzzlement for a while, then slunk sadly back to her parents, She took their hands, and as they were walking out of the farm, the Duckling overheard this:
“There was a mighty energetic Duckling there, darling, was he not to your liking?”
“Well… I wanted a Duckling who waddled, not toddle around like he was drunk like Grandpa always is. I wanted a Duckling who quacked, not squawk like he was being stepped on. I wanted a Duckling who could be cheerful, not always look oh so very constipated.
“I just wanted a Duckling to be more, like, well, a Duckling… so no, that wasn’t him.”
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