The Little Duck with the Injured Leg

The Little Duck with the Injured Leg

Once there lived an old man and an old woman. Their cottage was small, their vegetable patch well tended, and hollyhocks and mint bloomed by the windows. In the evenings they sat on a bench beside the door and listened to grasshoppers singing in the grass. Everything was in good order, but they had no children. Sometimes their home felt much too quiet. One summer morning the old man said: “Let's go mushroom picking in the forest. We'll fill our basket and brighten our spirits.” They followed a path among the pines, gathering mushrooms, until the old woman heard a soft rustle beneath a bush. “Come and look.” A little duck sat in the grass. Her feathers shone in the sunlight, but one leg was hurt, and she had been unable to follow her flock. “Poor thing,” the old woman sighed. “We can't leave her alone.” Her husband gently lifted the duck. At home they made a soft nest of dry grass and a piece of cloth, and set water and grain beside it. A few days passed. The duck grew stronger, though she still limped. One day the couple went back to the forest. When they returned that evening, they stared in wonder. The floor was swept, a clean cloth covered the table, fresh bread smelled warm in the oven, and borscht steamed in a pot. “Did you cook before we left?” the old man asked. “Of course not!” The same thing happened the next day. While they were away, someone tidied the house, spun thread, and made dumplings. A neighbor on her way to fetch water told them: “I saw a strange young woman at your well. A lovely girl, with a long braid and a white shirt. She walked with a slight limp.” The old couple looked at each other. “How curious.” They were eager to discover who was helping them. The next morning they pretended to leave for the day, then quietly returned and hid beside the window. The cottage was still. Then the duck stepped out of her nest, shook her wings, and something marvelous happened. Where the bird had stood, a young woman appeared. She tidied the room, set dough to rise, took a bucket, and went to the well. The old woman pressed her hands to her heart. “It's our little duck!” “She must be enchanted.” Then fear seized them. “What if she flies away one day?” the old woman whispered. “We'll be alone again.” They thought that without her nest, the girl might be unable to turn back into a bird. So, without asking her, they carried it outside and burned the dry straw. When the girl returned with the water, she understood at once. She set down the bucket and was silent for a long time. “Why did you do that?” she finally asked. “We were afraid of losing you,” the old woman answered. “We've grown used to your footsteps, your laughter, your work around the house. We wanted you to stay forever.” The girl shook her head sadly. “If you'd simply asked, I would have stayed a long time. You saved me when I couldn't fly, and I was truly grateful. But kindness must not become a lock on a door. You cannot keep someone you love by destroying their way home.” The old couple felt ashamed. “Forgive us, dear girl,” said the old man. “We acted foolishly.” She embraced them both. “I'm not angry. But now I must go.” She asked them to bring a spinning wheel and spindle. Then she sat in the yard and began spinning fine thread. Soon a familiar swish of wings sounded overhead. A flock of ducks passed above the cottage. They saw the girl and called: “Fly with us! Fly with us!” “I can't,” she answered. “I don't have my wings yet.” The ducks swooped lower and each dropped a feather before flying on. A second flock came and left more feathers. When a third appeared, the girl lifted her head. These were the very ducks she had flown with before she hurt her leg and fell behind. They circled above the yard as though calling her home. She gathered the feathers and held them to her shoulders. Again, a wonder happened. The same little duck stood in the grass—but now her leg was well and her wings were strong. She went to the couple and touched her beak to the old woman's palm, then to the old man's hand. “Goodbye, our little bird,” the woman whispered. “Fly wherever you'll be happy.” The duck spread her wings, rose above the cottage, and joined her flock. The old man and woman watched until only a thin silver line remained in the sky. After that, every autumn they placed a bowl of water beside the well for passing birds. Whenever ducks flew over the village, the old woman smiled. “Perhaps ours is among them.” And the old man answered: “Let her fly. It's good when someone you love knows the way home.”

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨