10 Nov 2016, 5:04am
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“…Eyeballs…” Bk1 #4 Just Ducky

Hey! You Got Eyeballs In There?

By Kate Chamberlin

 

As Grace grows up, some of her stories are happy, some trying, some enlightening, and a few themes are sad, but, they’re all the warp and woof of what goes into the tapestry of life we call Family. The daily living skills and techniques demonstrated by the fictional characters in these stories are valid, tried and true.

 

Book I:  The Early Years

#1.  If You Can’t See…

#2. Elytra, The Ladybug

#3. The Night Search For A Missing Puppy

#4. JUST DUCKY

After the campers washed the sticky s’more’s chocolate and marshmallow off their fingers, they sat along the pond’s grassy banks. The sun warmed their backs as they watched the dragon flies dart across the surface making a humming buzz. Several of the children laughed to see the flashy, little Sunfish  quickly zip  here and there, explaining to Grace they looked like they were playing tag. The line of the campers matching baseball caps, blue camp tee shirts and khaki shorts seemed to reflect the line of ducks calmly paddling on the water.

Story time was one of Grace’s favorite camp activities.  The counselors always used special voices for each character in the story, which often made the campers laugh and, sometimes, cry.

This afternoon, Grace’s favorite councilor, Jessie, said in a serious voice:

Cluck! Cluck! Squawk! Squawk!

They puffed out their feathers. Wings flapped madly.  Dust filled the air. That nasty little raccoon had attacked the barnyard again.  It scared Dame Duck into a panic and she flew away.  Her eggs were getting cold.

The madness knocked Dame Chicken senseless.  All her eggs had been crushed during the run-around.

All the chickens were clucking and scratching, frantically trying to decide what to do.

“We should tell the farmer,” clucked Hen Nancy.

“We should chase after the raccoon,” cackled Hen Patti.

“Well, I think we should all go hide so he can’t find us if he comes back,” lamented Hen Suzie.

“I seem to remember something like this happening before,” said old Nana Duck as she preened a wing trying very hard to remember  whatever it was she was supposed to remember.

 

During their frantic scratching and pecking, six of Dame Duck’s eggs were bumped away from her nest.  Several of the eggs rolled near Dame Chicken’s nest.

One of the chickens stepped on Dame Chicken’s tail feather. rousing her from unconsciousness

“Who stepped on me?” she pecked angrily as her eyes flew open.

Dame Chicken couldn’t believe what she saw.

“How did my eggs get out from under me? Why is everyone so upset?”

She rolled the eggs into her nest and checked each one.

“Hm-m-m, they seem to be larger than my other clutches,” she mused.  “Oh well, I guess perfect practice makes perfect.” She nestled herself over the clutch feeling this was quite an improvement.

 

“What are you all fussing about?        My eggs need peace and quiet to become strong.  Go back to your settings.”

As they heard her calm clucking, the other chickens began to forget why they had been so upset and returned to their own nests to set.

 

Dame Chicken lost track of time as she set on the eggs, rotated them, and patiently waited for them to hatch. At last, the great day came.  She felt one of her babies begin to peck at the shell.

Little by little, the hole got bigger and bigger. The cracks became wider and longer. Finally, her baby was free from his shell. She clucked excitedly over him and was careful not to step on him as she moved to examine another hatchling. Within a short time, all six of the eggs had hatched. She cleaned up the nest. Her babies were sleeping peacefully under her.

“I wish Dame Duck would come back,” she sighed. “I want to share my happiness with her.”

 

Dame Chicken recognized right away that they were bright little peepers.

“Follow me,” she clucked and they did.

“Peck up your seed,” and they did as she showed them.

“Sweep our nest clean,” she said and they did.

“Drink a sip of water,” she clucked but instead, they climbed right into the water tray.

She groomed their fluffy yellow down carefully several times a day. They grew quickly and their fluff began to show signs of real feathers.

“Why don’t their feet look like ours?” asked Hen Nancy.

“Did you mash their beaks?” Hen Patti blurted out.

“My, how dark their new feathers are,” Hen Suzie softly clucked.

“I seem to remember something about that,” quacked   old Nana Duck as she slowly closed her eyes to finish her nap.

 

Dame Chicken admitted to herself that they were different from any other clutch she’d had.

“You are such clever little peepers.      I love you all,”    she crooned to them.      “It doesn’t matter that you look a little different.  Life would be boring if we all looked exactly alike.”

 

Dame Chicken began to take her brood out of the chicken coop to train them in the ways of the world. One day she took them to the farm pond.  Old Nana Duck was dozing in the middle of it.

“You can stand at the edge of the cool water and get a drink,”   Dame Chicken said as she dipped her beak into the water.     They watched her for a split second.  Then stepped up to the edge of the water.  They kept on walking until they were paddling!

“Oh, Dear Gussie,” Dame Chicken exclaimed running back and forth on the bank in exasperation.      “Nana Duck! Nana Duck! Save my babies!”

Old Nana Duck opened a sleepy eye as the babies swam to her. “Well, isn’t this just ducky? There are some things you never forget.”

Dame Chicken’s fear turned to pride as she saw how well her brood could follow old Nana Duck.

“If only Dame Duck could see us now. They are such clever little peepers.”

 

The campers cheered and clapped as Jessie ended her story. The  tame ducks must have thought the clapping sounded like quacking and came up onto the bank. The campers held pieces of bread on their open palms to let the little ducks snatch up the snack.  Grace delighted in feeling the cool little beaks peck her hand for the bread before they waddled back into the pond with little splashes and quacks of thanks.

 

 
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