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“Don’t be daft!” “Daft! Daft! He’s daft!” squawked the other ducklings.
“I’m just saying that we should explore is all…” Fisby kicked at the sand with his webbed foot then turned away from them towards the water.
Everyday for the past three weeks, the ducklings were brought to the shore for swimming lessons and advice, by their matron, on how not to get eaten. But from day one, Fisby was allured by what he could not see, by what existed beyond his immediate guidelines and beyond the confines of the water’s horizon. And from day one, his curiosity was met with opposition from his siblings.
The matron clucked on, warning them about the grizzly consequences of venturing but Fisby believed that there existed positive consequences in equal measure. He obviously had no proof but he just somehow knew there were good things in lie too.
One early morning the ducklings were splashing in the shallows of the lake. On the not-too-distant surface, Fisby saw a disturbance. He paddled a little closer to the roiling water and saw the backs of fish breaking the surface of the water. They tumbled and turned and flopped with excitement. Fisby was surprised at how strong his enthusiasm was to investigate. He probed his instincts for any dread and found none. He figured that either his inability to sense danger was a personal malfunction or that the pessimism of his flock towards the unusual was wrong.
Fibsy quickly swam towards a sibling, “Hey look over there! Something’s going on, you want to go check it out?” “Nu-uh” refused his brother. “There’s nothing out there that’s worth the trouble, I’ll bet.” Fisby’s fluffy shoulders sank with disappointment. While he was eager to explore, he was hoping that he would not have to go it alone. The fear and indifference of his flock dashed those hopes and he realized that any exploits beyond the ordinary would have to be done alone.
The early morning sun infused the ends of his golden down surrounding him with a halo of light as he paddled away from his family towards the fishy hubbub.
Fisby’s brother was busy contemplating the dangers of the vast unknown when he was interrupted with the far-off cries of a duckling. He looked up at the distant surface of the water to see Fisby flailing and quacking. The surface beneath him churned with angry fish. “Oh no!” he squawked and hurried to enlist the help of his flock to rescue Fisby.
The regatta of ducklings arrived to witness a most unexpected event; competing fish hungrily breached the surface as Fisby thrust and snapped at a thick mass of mosquitos hovering above the water like a gaseous bubble of treats. Fisby was not crying for help but quacking with glee. “Wahoo!” he exclaimed as he filled his fuzzy cheeks with tasty insects.
Wide-eyed and hungry, Fisby’s siblings joined in the scramble for flying yummy bits of delight, which was only one of numerous opportunities existing outside the boundaries of their predictable existence.