Ducky was a little duck with a very big dream. He didn’t want to just swim and quack like the other ducks. Ducky wanted to *fly*. He’d spend hours watching the swallows swoop and soar above the pond, their wings catching the sunlight. “Oh,” he’d sigh, “to feel the wind beneath my wings!”
The other ducks chuckled when Ducky told them his dream. “Ducks don’t fly like *birds*,” said Old Man Fitzwilliam, the oldest and wisest duck on the pond. “We paddle! We dive! That’s what ducks *do*.” The other ducklings giggled, splashing each other playfully. Ducky’s feathers drooped a little, but he didn’t give up.
Every day, Ducky would climb onto the highest rock he could find and flap his wings as hard as he could. He’d flap and flap and flap, but he only managed to wobble a bit and then tumble back down into the water with a splash. It was tiring, and sometimes a little embarrassing.
One afternoon, a little bluebird named Skye landed near Ducky. She’d been watching him try to fly. “You’re very determined,” she chirped. “It’s not easy learning something new, is it?”
“It’s not,” Ducky admitted sadly. “The other ducks think I’m silly. And I keep falling!”
Skye smiled. “Falling is part of learning! When I was learning to fly, I bumped into trees and landed in bushes. But I kept trying. You have to believe in yourself, and practice, practice, practice.”
Ducky took a deep breath. Skye was right. He *did* believe he could fly, even if it was hard. He climbed back onto the rock, and this time, Skye gave him a little push. Ducky flapped his wings with all his might, remembering Skye’s words.
He didn’t soar like Skye, not yet. But this time, he didn’t just wobble. He lifted off the rock, and for a glorious few seconds, he *glided*! It wasn’t a long flight, but it was a flight nonetheless. He landed with a gentle splash, a huge grin on his face.
The other ducks were amazed. Even Old Man Fitzwilliam looked impressed. “Well, I’ll be!” he quacked. “A gliding duck! I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ducky continued to practice every day, with Skye cheering him on. He learned to glide a little further each time, and though he never flew exactly like a swallow, he found his own special way to enjoy the air. He discovered that even trying something difficult, and not succeeding perfectly, was worth it, especially with a friend by his side.
As the sun began to set, painting the pond in shades of orange and pink, Ducky snuggled close to his mother. He was tired, but happy. He had learned that even a little duck with a big dream could achieve amazing things, as long as he had courage, perseverance, and a little bit of self-belief. Now close your eyes, little one, and dream of soaring high, just like Ducky.