Happiness o’clock
As I fly away from the pond, the wind catches my wings and ruffles my feathers. I am on a mission for Great-Aunt Myrtle! Soon I will be part of the flock again!
Happiness wells up inside me
as warm and beautiful
as a new-laid egg—
STOP! I almost fall out of the sky in horror. That was the beginnings of a poem!
What’s wrong with me?
Quickly, I glance down at my shadow on the ground below. Does it look like an arrow of vengeance, swooping across the landscape? Does it look fierce? Does it look relentless?
No.
I stiffen my neck. I narrow my eyes (but then I have to widen them again, because I can’t see where I’m going). I adjust my flight pattern so that my shadow spells out a warning to anyone who crosses me.
I am a duck, and ducks don’t write poetry.
Not ever.
So … maybe it wasn’t really a poem. Maybe it was just indigestion from eating breakfast too quickly.
Even Great-Aunt Myrtle couldn’t object to a bit of indigestion.
Half past definitely-no-poetry
My mission of revenge leads me to the building that humans call ‘school’.
It is still early, and Clara is not here yet.
But she should be arriving soon.
I crouch behind a rock, where she will not see me, and wait.
Ducks are very patient.
…
Ducks are fairly patient.
…
This is ridiculous. Where is she?
Someone-is-coming o’clock
I hear someone approaching, and I crouch lower. Is it my target? Is it Clara?
No. It is a small flock of human children carrying bags. I watch from behind the rock as they put their bags on the ground and begin to chase each other.
More children arrive.
And more.
And now at last I hear a squawk! Clara is coming!
Don’t-get-too-excited o’clock
As a duckling, I studied the teachings of the famous general Ya Wu, who once led her small squad of ducks to victory against an entire battalion of feral pigs.
The teachings of General Ya
1. Let your plans be as dark and mysterious as the inside of a cow.
2. Before you move, get to know your enemy as well as you know your own egg.
3. Then fall upon them like an enraged auntie, and victory is assured.
Right now, my plans are as dark and mysterious as the inside of a cow. The trouble is, they are dark and mysterious to me. I don’t think that’s what General Ya meant.
And it’s not yet time to fall upon Clara like an enraged auntie.
So today I am getting to know her.
The first thing I notice is that she is not alone. She rides into the schoolyard on the front of a two-wheel, with a human girl pedalling. When the two-wheel stops, Clara flutters to the ground, and the other children gather around her.
Their eagerness reminds me of something.
What is it?
It reminds me—
It reminds me of General Ya and her faithful troops!
Clara has her own human army!
(This is not usual for a chook.)
‘Hey, Clara,’ says one of the children, ‘tell us how you stole Jubilee Simpson’s phone.’
Clara bends over a small blue object on the ground, and starts pecking at it. What is she doing? The blue object does not look edible. Why would you peck something that’s not edible?
Unless she’s trying to kill it. In which case, she’s taking an awfully long time.
Another of the children bends over the blue object and says, ‘“When … Jubilee Crystal Simpson … put her phone … on the car seat … I snatched it up … and ran for my life.”’
‘What about the truck?’ says the first child. ‘Tell us about the truck.’
‘“Mr Simpson … was trying to escape … with the stolen sheep … so I hid … in the back … of the truck.”’
The rest of the children make admiring noises. One of them says, ‘That’s so cool that Clara’s got her own phone, Olive. And that she can use it to talk to us.’
Wait, Clara is talking to the humans?
I didn’t know that was possible.
I mean, we all understand the language; we learn it as ducklings, along with unarmed combat and the art of warfare.
And humans can be a lot of fun. You can chase them, attack them, give them the death stare. You can bite their children, their ankles and their dogs.
But I’ve never heard of anyone actually talking to them.
‘She’s really clever,’ says the girl called Olive. ‘She knows semaphore and Morse code, don’t you, Clara?’
What are these strange words? What is semaphore? What is Morse code?
And why would anyone say, ‘She’s really clever’ without adding ‘for a chook’?
I crouch behind my rock, thinking hard.
Clara’s troops seem very loyal. So when the time comes for me to fall upon her like an enraged auntie, they will probably defend her.
I do not think I can fight them all.
Hmmm, perhaps I need my own human army …
Half past where-is-my-army?
On the other side of the playground, a girl is sitting alone, with her back turned to her fellow humans.
She does not seem to be part of Clara’s army.
Which means she can be mine.
It’s time to try this talking-to-humans thing.
I creep around the edge of the playground until I’m standing in front of her. She’s small for a human, with dark hair and an unhappy face. (That will change when she hears the good news.)
‘Congratulations, human,’ I say.
She jumps, as if she wasn’t expecting the great honour of being spoken to by a duck.
‘I have chosen you to take part in my grand plan of revenge,’ I tell her. ‘You will not be making any important decisions, but I will train you in unarmed combat, and at my command you will fight your fellow humans. You will also:
1. Answer my questions.
2. Watch my revenge.
3. Admire my revenge.
4. Spread the word about my revenge to other humans so they know not to laugh at ducks.
So, have you got all that?’
She glares at me, and mutters, ‘Quack quack quack to you too, duck.’
‘My name is Rita. But you can call me Captain Rita.’
‘Quack quack,’ says my new army. ‘I heard you the first time.’
She still looks unhappy. Perhaps she did not understand me properly.
‘Listen carefully,’ I say. ‘I am here for revenge.’
‘Quack quack.’
‘Revenge. Say it after me.’
‘Quack. This is getting boring.’
‘Re-venge.’
My army sighs. ‘How stupid is this? I’m talking to a duck.’
‘No you’re not. You’re not even trying. Let’s start again—’
I am interrupted by a dreadful noise. It sounds as if the school has come under attack by goats.
My army stands up.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask her.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she walks towards the school building, behind Clara and her army.
‘Listen,’ I say, running alongside her.‘Weneed to get started with your training. I suggest we go down to the river and practise some kicks … No? All right then, I’ll come with you into “school”, and we can—’
She opens the door.
‘You don’t want to start the kicks today? Not a problem. But you are my army, right?’
‘Yeah yeah, duck,’ she says.
‘Excellent! In that case, I’ll come with you and—’
The door shuts in my face.