So she wasted no time. She examined every inch of the shore of that
little pond. At last, a little back from the water, she found a place
to suit her, a place so well hidden by bushes that only the sharpest
eyes ever would find it. And a little later it would be still harder
to find, as she well knew, for all about clumps of tall ferns were
springing up, and when they had fully unfolded, not even the keen eyes
of Sammy Jay looking down from a near-by tree would be able to discover
her secret. There she made a nest on the ground, a nest of dried
grass and leaves, and lined it with the softest and most beautiful of
linings, down plucked from her own breast. In it she laid ten eggs.
Then came long weeks of patient sitting on them, watching the wonder of
growing things about her, the bursting into bloom of shy wood flowers,
the unfolding of leaves on bush and tree, the springing up in a night
of queer mushrooms, which people call toadstools, and all the time
dreaming beautiful Duck dreams of the babies which would one day hatch
from those precious eggs. She never left them save to get a little food
and just enough exercise to keep her well and strong, and when she did
leave them, she always carefully pulled soft down over them to keep
them warm while she was away.
Mr. Quack knew all about that nest, though he had taken no part in
building it and had no share in the care of those eggs. He was very
willing that she should do all the work and thought it quite sufficient
that he should be on guard to give warning if danger should appear. So
he spent the long beautiful days lazily swimming about in the little
pond, gossiping with Paddy the Beaver, and taking the best of care of
himself. The broken wing healed and grew strong again, for it had not
been so badly broken, after all. If he missed the company of others of
his kind which he would have had during these long days of waiting had
they been able to reach their usual nesting-place in the far Northland,
he never mentioned it.
Unknown to them, Farmer Brown's boy discovered where they were. Later
he came often to the pond and was content to sit quietly on the shore
and watch Mr. Quack, so that Mr. Quack grew quite used to him and did
not fear him at all. In fact, after the first few times, he made no
attempt to hide. You see he discovered that Farmer Brown's boy was a
friend. Always after he had left, there was something good to eat near
where he had been sitting, for Farmer Brown's boy brought corn and oats
and sometimes a handful of wheat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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