Knjigice
Fairy tale · Animal stories
The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck
The tale of the duck who wanted to hatch her own eggs
Also in: Zgodba o raci Jemimi (Slovenian) · Príbeh o kačke Jemime (Slovak)
On a farm below the hill lived a white duck called Jemima Puddle-Duck. More than anything she wanted to hatch her own eggs. But the farmer's wife took them every time and gave them to a hen to sit on. "A duck is no patient sitter," she said. Jemima ruffled her feathers: "We shall see! I will find a nest where nobody ever comes."
1
One spring afternoon Jemima put on her rose-pink shawl, tied on her blue poke bonnet and set off up the road. Nobody noticed her go. "The nest must be far from the farm," she told herself, "somewhere with no hens and no farmer's wife." From the top of the hill she saw a wood in the distance. "There! I shall fly there."
2
Now, flying was not something Jemima was very good at. First she ran a long way downhill, flapping her wings until she was quite out of breath. Then — hop! — the wind lifted her at last. Once she got going she flew rather nicely, though her shawl fluttered about her neck. The treetops raced along below her, until she spotted a clearing in the wood and landed softly among the trees.
3
On a tree stump in the clearing sat an elegant gentleman with sandy whiskers, in a brown tweed coat. He was reading a newspaper, and looked up most politely. "Are you lost, madam?" Jemima told him she was looking for a safe place to nest. "Nothing easier!" smiled the gentleman with his pointed teeth. "My woodshed has room to spare. Do follow me."
4
The woodshed was full of soft feathers from floor to ceiling. "How odd," thought Jemima, "I have never seen so many feathers!" But the nest was so soft that she asked no more questions. Every day she flew over and laid an egg, and every time the gentleman politely saw her out. Soon there were nine in the nest, large and greenish white.
5
"Tomorrow I shall begin to sit," Jemima announced. "Splendid!" said the gentleman, smoothing his whiskers. "But first, let us have a festive dinner. Bring me sage, thyme, mint and two onions from the garden — for a tasty omelette, I mean to say, for the stuffing." Jemima suspected nothing. She nodded and flew off to fetch the herbs.
6
In the garden Jemima was picking sage and mint when she met Kep, the farm's wise old collie dog. "Where do you fly off to every day, Jemima?" Proudly the duck told him everything: about the sandy-whiskered gentleman, the woodshed full of feathers, the nine eggs. Kep said almost nothing, but his eyes grew serious. "Where, did you say, is that woodshed?"
7
The moment Jemima flew off, Kep ran to the village. At the butcher's there lived two young foxhound puppies who loved to chase anything that ran. "Tonight you will help me," Kep told them. "A certain sandy gentleman on the hill has taken a fancy to roast duck." The puppies pricked up their ears, and all three set off quietly toward the wood.
8
Jemima flew back to the clearing with the herbs in her shawl. That evening the gentleman was strangely restless. "Look at your eggs, then come inside, quickly!" he urged her. Just then a growl came from the bushes. Kep and the puppies burst into the clearing and drove the fox out of the wood for good. Only now did Jemima understand what dinner he had been planning.
9
But oh dear — in all the commotion the puppies dashed into the shed and gobbled up all nine eggs before Kep could pull them away. "My eggs!" wept Jemima. They walked her home slowly, down the road, and Jemima shed big tears all the way. And that was the end of her nesting in the wood.
10
But it was not the end of her story. At home, Jemima was at last allowed to sit on her own nest, in a corner of the barn. She sat patiently, day after day, and in June something stirred beneath her. Four fluffy ducklings! Jemima proudly led them past the hens to the water trough — a mother duck who had hatched her young all by herself.
11The End
