birds appeared out of the reeds. The duckling had never seen birds so beautiful. They
were dazzling white, with long graceful necks. They were swans. They uttered a very
strange cry as they unfurled their magnificent wings to fly from this cold land, away to
warmer countries and to open waters. They went up so high, so very high, that the ugly
little duckling felt a strange uneasiness come over him as he watched them. He went
around and round in the water, like a wheel. He craned his neck to follow their course, and
gave a cry so shrill and strange that he frightened himself. Oh! He could not forget them-
those splendid, happy birds. When he could no longer see them he dived to the very
bottom. and when he came up again he was quite beside himself. He did not know what
birds they were or whither they were bound, yet he loved them more than anything he had
ever loved before. It was not that he envied them, for how could he ever dare dream of
wanting their marvelous beauty for himself? He would have been grateful if only the ducks
would have tolerated him-the poor ugly creature.
The winter grew cold - so bitterly cold that the duckling had to swim to and fro in the water
to keep it from freezing over. But every night the hole in which he swam kept getting
smaller and smaller. Then it froze so hard that the duckling had to paddle continuously to
keep the crackling ice from closing in upon him. At last, too tired to move, he was frozen
fast in the ice.
Early that morning a farmer came by, and when he saw how things were he went out on
the pond, broke away the ice with his wooden shoe, and carried the duckling home to his
wife. There the duckling revived, but when the children wished to play with him he thought
they meant to hurt him. Terrified, he fluttered into the milk pail, splashing the whole room
with milk. The woman shrieked and threw up her hands as he flew into the butter tub, and
then in and out of the meal barrel. Imagine what he looked like now! The woman
screamed and lashed out at him with the fire tongs. The children tumbled over each other
as they tried to catch him, and they laughed and they shouted. Luckily the door was open,
and the duckling escaped through it into the bushes, where he lay down, in the newly
fallen snow, as if in a daze.
But it would be too sad to tell of all the hardships and wretchedness he had to endure
during this cruel winter. When the warm sun shone once more, the duckling was still alive
among the reeds of the marsh. The larks began to sing again. It was beautiful springtime.
Then, quite suddenly, he lifted his wings. They swept through the air much more strongly
than before, and their powerful strokes carried him far. Before he quite knew what was
happening, he found himself in a great garden where apple trees bloomed. The lilacs filled
the air with sweet scent and hung in clusters from long, green branches that bent over a
winding stream. Oh, but it was lovely here in the freshness of spring!
From the thicket before him came three lovely white swans. They ruffled their feathers and
swam lightly in the stream. The duckling recognized these noble creatures, and a strange
feeling of sadness came upon him.
"I shall fly near these royal birds, and they will peck me to bits because I, who am so very
ugly, dare to go near them. But I don't care. Better be killed by them than to be nipped by
the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked about by the hen-yard girl, or suffer such misery in
winter."
So he flew into the water and swam toward the splendid swans. They saw him, and swept
down upon him with their rustling feathers raised. "Kill me!" said the poor creature, and he
bowed his head down over the water to wait for death. But what did he see there, mirrored
in the clear stream? He beheld his own image, and it was no longer the reflection of a
clumsy, dirty, gray bird, ugly and offensive. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck
yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.
He felt quite glad that he had come through so much trouble and misfortune, for now he