Duck Stories for Kids

Quill the duckling loved the pond from a distance. He loved watching the water sparkle and the fish flash silver beneath the surface. But he would not go in. Not one feather. "Come swim with us!" his brothers and sisters called, splashing and diving. "No thank you," Quill said from the grassy bank. "The water is too deep and too wiggly." His big sister Willow waddled over and sat beside him. "The water is not trying to trick you," she said. "Watch how it holds me up." She stepped in, and the water lifted her like a pillow. Quill watched, not quite believing. "Try just your toes," Willow said. "I will stay right here." Quill's heart thumped. But he took a tiny step toward the edge. The water slid over his little orange feet. It was cool, and soft, and not wiggly at all. "That is not so bad," he whispered. "Now your tummy," Willow said. Quill took another step. The water rose to his round belly, and something funny happened. His feet left the muddy bottom, and he floated. "I am floating!" he squeaked. "Willow, I am floating!" Willow laughed. "That is swimming, Quill. You are swimming!" Quill paddled his feet, just a little, and glided forward. Then a little more, and more, until he was right in the middle of the pond with all his brothers and sisters. "You did it!" they cheered, splashing him with happy little waves. That evening, Quill did not want to come out of the water at all. "Tomorrow," he said, "can we swim all the way across?" Willow smiled. "We can swim all the way across and back."

Dilly the duck had found it first. The last bread crumb on the whole pond, floating right there by the reeds. It was a big crumb too, golden and soft. "Mine," Dilly said happily, paddling toward it. But just then, a little sparrow landed on a cattail nearby. She was thin and tired, and her feathers were ruffled from a long, hard day. "Oh," the sparrow sighed, looking at the crumb. "What I would give for even a tiny bite. I have not eaten all day." Dilly looked at the crumb. It was the last one. If she shared it, there would be less for her. If she ate it all, her tummy would be very full. Then she looked at the sparrow's sad eyes, and her heart made the choice before her head could argue. "Come on down," Dilly called. "There is plenty here for both of us." The sparrow blinked. "You would share with me? You do not even know me." "I know you are hungry," Dilly said. "That is enough." So Dilly nudged the crumb to a flat lily pad, and the two of them ate together. The sparrow told Dilly about her long trip south, and Dilly told her about the best spots on the pond for finding seeds. When the crumb was gone, the sparrow looked brighter than before. "Thank you, Dilly," she said. "You saved my day." Dilly smiled. "And you made my lunch better than a whole crumb by myself ever could." As the sparrow flew off, Dilly realized her tummy felt just as full as if she had eaten it all. But her heart felt much, much fuller.

It had not rained in a very long time. The pond grew smaller every day, and the ducks grew more and more worried. "The water is going away!" cried Pip. "What will happen to us?" "The pond is shrinking!" cried Pop. "We will be stuck in the mud!" Mama Duck gathered all her ducklings around her. "Settle down, little ones," she said. "The rain always comes. It is only a matter of waiting." "But waiting is boring," said Pip. "And scary." "Then let us wait together," said Mama Duck. "Let me tell you a story about the very first rain." The ducklings nestled close, and Mama Duck began. She told them about the clouds that gather far out over the ocean, full and gray and heavy with water. She told them how the wind pushes those clouds across the sky until they reach the pond. And how, when the clouds can hold no more, they let it all go in a soft, warm shower. "The rain has traveled a long way to reach us," Mama Duck said. "It will be here soon." Day after day, the ducklings waited. They counted clouds. They made up songs about puddles. They watched the sky each morning with hopeful eyes. Then one afternoon, the air turned cool and sweet. A rumble rolled across the sky. And the rain came, soft at first, then harder, pattering on the pond in a thousand tiny rings. "Rain! Rain!" the ducklings shouted, dancing in the water. The pond rose and rose until it was full again, sparkling in the sun. Mama Duck smiled. "You see? The waiting was hard, but the rain was worth it." Pip looked up. "The next time we have to wait," he said, "I will remember the clouds are on their way."

Dexter the duck was sure he knew the best way to do everything. "The reeds are this way," he would say, and paddle off on his own. "Trust me, I know the pond like the back of my wing." The other ducks followed him sometimes, but mostly they shook their heads and stuck together. One misty morning, the flock set out to cross the pond to the far side, where the sweetest water grass grew. The fog rolled in thick and white, like a blanket over the water. "Stay together," said Mama Duck. "It is easy to get lost in the fog." "I will find the way," said Dexter, and he paddled off ahead, fast and sure. But the fog swallowed the shapes of the reeds and the shore. Left looked like right. Forward looked like back. Dexter paddled and paddled, certain he was right, until he bumped into something. A lily pad. Then another. Then the same clump of cattails he had passed before. "I am going in circles," Dexter whispered. And for the first time, he was scared. Then, through the fog, he heard a sound. A soft, steady quacking. The flock. They had stayed together, and Mama Duck was calling to keep everyone close. Dexter followed the sound. And there they were, a neat line of ducks paddling side by side through the fog, each one calling to the next. "Dexter!" cried Pip. "We were so worried!" Dexter tucked himself into the line, right between his brothers. "I am sorry," he said. "I thought I could find the way alone. But the fog does not care how much you know." Mama Duck smiled. "That is why we stay together, Dexter. When one duck gets lost, the flock brings him home." They reached the far shore together, and the grass never tasted sweeter.

One morning, a small green frog appeared at the edge of the pond. He looked around with big, worried eyes and let out a tiny croak. The ducklings swam over to look. "Who is he?" they whispered. "He is not a duck. He does not even have a beak." The little frog's lip trembled. "I am Froggy," he said. "I hopped too far from my pond, and now I cannot find my way home. Have you seen it? It has a big flat rock in the middle." The ducklings shook their heads. "We have never seen a pond like that," they said, and swam off to play. But one duckling stayed behind. His name was Pip. "Do not worry, Froggy," Pip said. "We will find your pond together. Tell me more about it." Froggy brightened a little. "It has three lily pads shaped like hearts, and a log where my grandpa naps in the sun." Pip thought hard. "A log in the sun... I think I know where that might be. Follow me." They set off along the edge of the pond, Pip paddling slowly so Froggy could hop beside him. They passed the cattails and the muddy bank, and Froggy told Pip all about his family and the flies he liked to catch. At last, they came to a smaller pond tucked behind the willow trees. In the middle sat a big flat rock, and on the far side, an old log lay in the sun. "That is it!" Froggy croaked. "That is my home! Oh, thank you, Pip!" Froggy's family hopped out to greet him, and everyone cheered. Froggy turned to Pip. "You did not have to help me," he said. "The other ducks did not even try." Pip smiled. "Everyone needs help finding home sometimes," he said. "Come visit me at the big pond whenever you like." And from that day on, a little green frog was often seen hopping along the shore beside one very kind duckling.

Dippy the duckling wanted to swim in a straight line. But every time he tried, he tipped over. Splash! He landed on his side. The other ducklings swam in a neat row. Quack, quack, quack. They made it look easy. Dippy tried again. He paddled his little feet. But he wobbled and tipped. Splash! "I quit!" said Dippy. "I will never learn to swim." His mother swam over. "Do not quit, Dippy," she said. "Everyone tips over at first. I did too." "You did?" asked Dippy. "Yes," said his mother. "I practiced every day. Now watch my feet. Kick, kick, kick." Dippy watched. Then he tried again. He kicked his feet. Kick, kick. He wobbled. But this time, he did not tip over. "I did not fall!" he said. "Now try again," said his mother. "A little more each day." So Dippy practiced every day. He kicked and kicked. Some days he still tipped over. But he did not quit. One sunny morning, Dippy got in the water. Kick, kick, kick. He swam in a straight line. All the way across the pond! "Look at me!" he quacked. "I did it!" The other ducklings cheered. "Way to go, Dippy!" Dippy puffed up his chest. "I wanted to quit," he said. "But I kept trying. And now I can swim." "That is right," said his mother. "Hard things get easier when you do not give up." Now Dippy swims at the front of the line. The little ducklings watch him and want to swim as well as he does. Dippy tells them, just keep trying, like I did.

There was one big flat rock in the middle of the pond. It was warm from the sun. It was the best spot for sitting. Waddles the duck loved that rock. He sat on it all day, every day. "Waddles, may I sit on the rock?" asked his friend Puddle. "No," said Waddles. "I was here first." "But you have been here all day," said Puddle. "I am still here," said Waddles. He puffed up his feathers and did not move. All the ducks waited on the shore. They looked at the warm rock. But Waddles would not share. After a while, Waddles got bored. He was alone on the rock. He watched the other ducks play in the water. They were laughing and splashing. They were having fun without him. Waddles felt lonely. "Maybe I was wrong," he said to himself. He slid off the rock. "Puddle!" he called. "It is your turn now." Puddle looked surprised. "Really?" "Really," said Waddles. "I am sorry. The rock should be for everyone. We can take turns." Puddle hopped onto the warm rock. "Ah, this is nice," he said. "Thank you, Waddles." Soon the ducks made a plan. Each duck got a turn on the rock. When one duck's time was up, the next duck hopped on. Waddles played in the water while he waited. He had so much fun splashing. When his turn came again, he sat on the rock and smiled. "Taking turns is more fun," he said. "Now everyone is happy."

Puddle the duck lived in a small pond. She loved it there. She knew every rock and every reed. But one hot summer, the pond began to dry up. The water went down and down. Soon there was only a little mud left. "We must move to the big pond," said Puddle's mother. "There is no water left here." "But I do not want to leave!" said Puddle. "This is my home. What if I do not like the new pond?" "Change can be scary," said her mother. "But new places can be wonderful too. Let us go see." Puddle flew with her family to the big pond. It was very far. When they landed, Puddle looked around with wide eyes. The new pond was huge. The water was cool and clear. There were fish and frogs and many, many ducks. "Hello!" said a little duckling. "Are you new here? My name is Splash. Want to swim with us?" Puddle looked at her mother. Her mother nodded. "Go on," she said. Puddle swam with Splash and the other ducklings. The water felt cool on her feet. She saw flowers she had never seen before. She found new reeds and new rocks. "I was so scared to leave my old home," Puddle said. "But this place is beautiful." "You were very brave," said Splash. "And now you have new friends." That night, Puddle floated on the big pond and looked at the stars. "My new home is wonderful," she said. "I am glad I was brave enough to come."