The Formerly Ugly Duckling

The Formerly Ugly Duckling
By Starath

One year after the trials of rejection, the formerly ugly ducking, now a beautiful swan, was happy.  The sun shined brightly overhead, the moor’s water sparkled, and the grass was always green.  Every day the swan was grateful for the beauty that surrounded him but sometimes he still had to look in the water to see that he was beautiful too.  After a whole year of being called ugly it took some getting used to.  He had friends now, three of them in fact, and there was a pen he liked too. She was the most beautiful bird he had ever seen, and yes, he was pretty now, but he didn’t think he had a chance with her yet. He was still learning not to be ugly.

His friends couldn’t believe the things he had gone through.  “That’s terrible!” said one, and the others nodded.  “Looks alone do not make the bird,” said his other friend, “we were all ugly once.”  Sometimes his friends would playfully slap a wingtip on his back. “Well, see what all that did for you? You’re the prettiest of us all!”  The formerly ugly duckling would hide his head under his wing and blush after that.  He was not proud about his looks, merely happy.

There was a cob who swam in the moor too. He was a big fellow and loudly proclaimed himself to be the best of the swans.  He was not yet married and he could never figure out why.  He courted every pen he came across, and one by one they rejected him.  “It must be that I’m too good for them!” he said very loudly one day, and set about finding the right pen for him.  He tried showing off to the pen the formerly ugly duckling liked, but she only showed him her tail feathers and swam away.  He swatted the water with his bill in frustration, then beamed. “She must be playing hard to get,” he thought, and swam after her.

There were ducks in the moor too, and sometimes the formerly ugly duckling would watch a puzzling thing.  Some of the other swans treated them badly.  He never did, but watching his friends torment the poor ducks was hauntingly familiar.  Ducks were one way and swans were another, he was told, and swans are the best.  “But why?” he thought, uneasiness growing in his white breast, “what makes them worse?  What made me worse a year ago?” He asked one of his friends. “Don’t be silly!” the young friend said, “It’s because we’re prettier. They are brown and green and ugly. We are white.” He didn’t ask again, horrified as he was, and luckily he didn’t watch the harassment often. It made him sick.

One day formerly ugly duckling was out swimming on the far side of the moor, trying his best to understand the ways of the world.  It hurt his mind after awhile so he decided to eat some watercress.  When he bobbed up to the surface he heard a fierce squabble.  Swimming around a bend in the shore he came to a stand of reeds. There was the pen he liked, but she didn’t have his attention.  The proud loud cob was arguing with an old mother duck.  “Go AWAY!” she snapped at him, flapping her wings in his face, “Leave me and my children in peace, you great lout! We did nothing to you!”  The proud cob laughed in her face and flattened her with one of his great white wings. “You are ugly, and that’s plenty! Leave these reeds mother duck, because they’re mine!”  Well, that old mother duck was tenacious and she got back up to yell at him some more. “You don’t have the privilege to own everything just because you’re beautiful! Go away!”

Now, the formerly ugly duckling was mortified by this entire scene, but something tugged at his memory.  When the old mother duck sat still long enough for him to look at her, he gave a startled honk.  “Mother!” he cried, and everybody went quiet.  The old mother duck stared at him and the proud cob huffed haughtily.  The pretty pen watched.  “… Yes, and who are you?” the old mother duck demanded, paddling right up to him, “Someone else to pester me with his good looks?  Be gone! Two louts are worse than one!” The proud cob swam up to him too and buffeted him with a wing. “Who do you think you are?  These are MY reeds and I want them for my girlfriend!”

The formerly ugly duckling swallowed at that. He looked at the pen, but she said nothing.  He looked back at the cob and his mother, so small, and put himself between the two. “This is the mother who raised me,” he said, “and she let everyone treat me badly because I was an ugly duckling. It was wrong, and I’m not going to let you do the same thing to her!”

The proud cob puffed himself up to full height and looked like his feathers would come apart.  But the formerly ugly duckling stood his ground and would not give in to the angry look in his eye.  Moments passed and the proud cob eventually deflated.  “Fine!” he hissed, “I’ll find my own reeds for my girlfriend. Come along, dear.”  The pen looked at him, then the formerly ugly duckling, and shook her head. “I’m not your girlfriend.  You’re a proud old coot.  Beat it.”  After some frustrated squawking, he did.

The formerly ugly duckling took a long breath and backed away from his mother.  She looked at him, awed, then turned away, very ashamed.  “I didn’t need your help,” she grumbled, “even if you were my son.  My children couldn’t be as beautiful as you.” The formerly ugly duckling chuckled. “No, remember me, Mama? I was the ugly duckling you had.”  She turned back to see him, and he smiled as best a bird with a beak could.  Then the reeds rustled and tiny chirps appeared with little fluffy heads.  “Mama, mama, is the big scary one gone?” the ducklings asked, then stared at the formerly ugly duckling.  “Is he going to eat us?” asked a brave little one. The old mother duck laughed and gathered her children up in a feathery hug. “No. This is your big brother.”

From that day forward the formerly ugly duckling made sure no swan made fun of the ducks ever again, and when he had children of his own he let them play with the ducklings.