The Ugly Duckling

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It was so beautiful out in the country. It was high summer, and the sun shone warm and golden down over the old fields. The oats stood green, and the hay smelled sweet and heavy. Down in the damp meadows the stork walked about on his long red legs, enjoying the quiet.

The sun beat down on an old manor house that was surrounded by deep canals of water. And right down at the water's edge grew burdock leaves - enormous green leaves, so tall that small children could stand upright underneath them. In there, in the cool shade, it was as wild and secret as the deepest forest.

And here a mother duck lay on her nest.

She lay and waited. And waited. It had taken so long that she was very nearly losing patience. The other ducks were swimming about out in the canal, but she had to stay where she was.

But suddenly - crack, crack!

One after another, the eggs began to break open.

“Peep, peep!” came the sound. The little yolks had come alive, and now they poked their heads out. They looked like small, soft tufts of wool.

“Quack, quack! Do hurry along,” said the mother duck, and out they swarmed under the green leaves. They looked at the green world with great big eyes.

“How big the world is!” cheeped the ducklings.

“Do you think this is the whole world?” said their mother, shaking her feathers. “No, it stretches much further than this, all the way round to the other side of the garden. Though I have never been there myself.”

She half stood up and looked down into the nest.

“Are you all here?” she asked. “No - the big egg is still lying there. However long is it going to take? I am getting quite tired of it.”

And then she lay down again.

At last the big egg cracked open.

Peep, peep! said the little one, and tumbled out.

The mother duck looked at him. He was very big. And he did not look like the others at all. He was not yellow and downy, but grey and rather scruffy.

“That is a very large duckling,” she thought. “Could he be a turkey? Well, we shall soon find out. Into the water he goes, even if I have to kick him in myself.”

The next day the sun shone again. The mother duck jumped into the water with a splash!

“Quack, quack!” she called, and one duckling after another tumbled in. They disappeared under the surface for a moment, but came straight back up with their legs paddling away. And the big grey duckling? He swam along too. In fact he swam better than any of them. He held his head high and glided beautifully through the water.

“No, he is no turkey,” said his mother proudly. “Just look how nicely he uses his legs. He is my own child. And really he is quite handsome, if you only look at him properly.”

But when they came into the duck-yard, there was trouble. The other ducks shoved him and said: “Look at that one! Are we to have him in here as well? He looks all wrong.”

A big duck flew over and bit him on the back of the neck.

“Leave him alone!” said his mother. “He is doing no harm to anybody.”

“No, but he is too big and too strange,” said the other duck.

And so it went on. The poor big duckling was shoved and teased. The chickens pecked at him, and even the girl who came with the feed pushed him aside with her foot.

He felt so wrong. He hid in the corner and dreamed of being small and yellow like the others. He did not know what to do with himself.

At last he could not bear it any longer. Early one morning, while the dew still lay on the grass, he ran off over the fence. The little birds in the bushes flew up in fright.

“That is because I am so ugly,” thought the duckling, and closed his eyes. But he ran on.

He came out to a great marsh where the wild ducks lived. Here he lay all night, so tired and so sad. When the sun came up, the wild ducks looked at him.

“What sort of creature are you?” they asked.

The duckling turned himself about in every direction and greeted them as politely as he could.

“You are remarkably ugly,” said the wild ducks. “But it makes no difference to us, so long as you do not marry into our family.”

The poor duckling was not thinking about marrying at all. He only wanted to be allowed to lie among the rushes and drink a little marsh water.

He wandered on, and one evening, when the wind blew up hard, he reached a small, poor cottage. The door hung so crookedly on its hinges that he could just squeeze inside into the warmth.

Here lived an old woman with her cat and her hen.

The cat could arch his back and purr, and the hen could lay eggs. They were very proud, and believed they were the cleverest creatures in the whole world.

“Can you lay eggs?” asked the hen.

“No,” answered the duckling carefully.

“Can you arch your back and purr and give out sparks?” asked the cat.

“No...”

“Then you had better keep quiet when sensible people are talking,” said the cat.

The duckling sat down in a corner. He found himself thinking about the fresh air and the sunshine. He was seized by such a strange longing to float on the water.

“Whatever is the matter with you?” said the hen. “You have nothing to do, that is why you get these fancies. Try laying an egg, or purring, and it will pass.”

“But it is so lovely to float on the water,” said the duckling dreamily. “To have the water close over your head, and to dive down towards the bottom.”

“You are mad,” said the hen. “Ask the cat, he is the cleverest creature I know. Ask him whether he cares to swim or dive.”

“Nobody here understands me,” thought the duckling. And so he chose to go out into the world again.

Autumn came. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown, and the wind caught them so that they danced about. The air grew cold, and the clouds hung heavy with hail and snow.

These were hard times for the poor duckling.

One evening, just as the sun was going down in a beautiful red sky, a whole flock of great, lovely birds came out of the forest. The duckling had never seen anything so beautiful. They were shining white, with long, supple necks. They were swans.

They gave a wonderful cry, spread their magnificent long wings and flew away from the cold country, towards warmer lands and open lakes.

They rose high, high up towards the stars.

The little ugly duckling turned round and round in the water like a wheel, stretched his neck up after them and gave a cry so loud and so strange that it frightened even himself.

Oh, he could not forget those beautiful birds. He did not know what they were called, or where they were flying, but he loved them more than he had ever loved anyone before. He did not envy them - how could he ever dream of being so beautiful? He only wished that he were not so alone.

The winter grew cold. So cold. The duckling had to swim round and round in the water all the time to keep it open, but the hole grew smaller and smaller. It froze until the ice creaked. He lay still, completely worn out, and dreamed of spring.

But at last... at last the sun began to warm again.

The larks were singing. Spring had come.

The duckling lay among the rushes and beat his wings. They felt stronger now than before. They rushed against the air, and before he knew it they lifted him up. He was flying!

He flew over the dark forests and landed in a great garden, where the apple trees were in blossom and the lilacs smelled so sweet.

Right in front of him, out of the rushes, came three beautiful white swans. They ruffled their feathers and floated lightly on the water.

The duckling recognised the beautiful creatures, and a strange sadness came over him.

“I shall fly over to them, those royal birds! They will surely peck me to death, because I, who am so ugly, dare to come near them. But it does not matter!”

He swam out towards the magnificent swans. They saw him and came rushing towards him.

“Just kill me,” whispered the poor creature, and bowed his head down towards the water and waited for the blow.

But what was this that he saw in the clear water?

He saw his own reflection.

But he was no longer a clumsy, dark grey bird, ugly and unpleasant to look at.

He was a swan himself.

It does not matter in the least that you were born in a duck-yard, so long as you have lain in a swan's egg.

The great swans swam round him and stroked him with their beaks. Some small children came running down into the garden and threw bread and cake out into the water.

The smallest of them called out: “There is a new one! A new one has come!”

And the others cheered: “Yes, a new one has come! He is the most beautiful of them all! So young and so lovely!”

And the old swans bowed their heads to him.

Then he felt quite shy, and tucked his head under his wing. He was far too happy, but not proud at all, for a good heart never becomes haughty.

He thought about the time when he was chased and teased, and now he heard everyone saying that he was the loveliest of all lovely birds. The lilacs bent their branches right down into the water for him, and the sun shone so warm and so good.

Then his feathers rustled, his slender neck rose up, and he rejoiced with all his heart:

“I never dreamed of so much happiness, back when I was the ugly duckling!”

About this story

The Ugly Duckling is Hans Christian Andersen's most famous fairy tale, published in 1843. A large grey duckling hatches last in the duck-yard, and nobody wants him - not the other ducks, not the hens, not the cat and the hen in the old cottage. He spends a hard winter alone before spring comes and he finally sees his own reflection. Andersen described the story as being about his own childhood, and it is still the tale children reach for when they feel they do not fit in.

Themes

• Animals
• Belonging
• Courage

Chapters

1. The duck-yard in summer
2. The last egg
3. The duck-yard turns on him
4. Out into the world
5. The swans fly over
6. Spring, and the reflection