by ProfDave, ©2021
(Jun. 22, 2021) — It is time the parable of the ugly duckling was updated. Modern tales require a back-story, so here goes. It seems that not too long ago and not too far away, there was a farmer who raised ducks. He may have had chickens and pigs, too, but this is a duck story. One fine spring it came into the farmer’s mind that he would like to have a swan to dignify his lovely little pond. So he obtained a warm, fresh swan egg from a neighbor and added it to the nest of one of his ducks. The rest is history.
Mrs. Duck wasn’t paying attention. In fact, the existence of the farmer and his occasional passage through the barnyard, fiddling with the feeder and around the pond, seemed quite irrelevant to her – when it wasn’t a nuisance. The egg was a little large and took a couple extra days to hatch, but she took little notice. The hatchling was a bit startling at first, but she was tolerant and he seemed healthy enough.
Indeed, he was, from the first, aware that he was different from his brothers and sisters. It was true. He was larger. And his neck was too long. And he didn’t stand on his head properly to eat. As he developed, his voice changed differently and he didn’t quack right. His mother treated all her ducklings alike, as a matter of principle, but the Drake made snide remarks about a passing Mallard and the other ducklings avoided him. In fact, he heard so many comments, that he thought his name was “Ugly.” Ducklings can be cruel, and, as we said, Mrs. Duck wasn’t paying attention – indulgent, yes, but distracted. You could say his family was dysfunctional. The Drake never did accept him. Since he wasn’t often permitted to participate in the usual duckling games, he spent more and more time by himself. Only the farmer took a particular interest in him, but what did that matter?
To make a long story short, Ugly was unhappy in the little barnyard with the little pond where he was hatched. That fall, when his flight feathers had developed, he plotted his escape. Very early one crisp autumn morning, when the sky was just getting gray before the dawn and everybody else was still asleep with their heads under their wings, he took a running start across the water into the wind and took off. He didn’t get very far. He was fat and not used to flying for distance. But he reached a strange pond on another farm a mile or two away.
The pond seemed empty. At last he could be alone without everybody quacking at him. But then, out of the reeds there sailed a squadron of great white alien creatures. Now he was in for it! Paralyzed by fear, he bowed his head to give himself up. There in the still water he saw his own reflection: his great white alien reflection! He, too, was a swan!
Horrified, he fled home to his mother. “I don’t want to be a swan,” he wailed, “they’re so weird! I hate swans!” He blubbered and screamed and ran around knocking things over. He even tried to tie his neck in a knot. So his mother (who didn’t much like swans either, having had a bad experience with one in her youth) took him to a counselor and the counselor referred him to a taxidermist who pulled out all his swan feathers and glued in duck feathers. It was very painful and took a long time. But when it was done, well, he still needed shots. He couldn’t fly and lost feathers every time he tried to swim. The Drake made a rule that everybody had to leave him alone – and they did, pretty much. Most of the ducks tried to be kind, but he never really felt like one of them nor could he do what they did – let alone find a mate. So, he lived unhappily ever after as a large ugly duck with the voice of a swan.
And the farmer never did get his swan.
Moral of the tale: if God made you a swan, don’t try to be an odd duck. He doesn’t make mistakes. It is easier to change your wants than your reality.
David W. Heughins (“ProfDave”) is Adjunct Professor of History at Nazarene Bible College. He holds a BA from Eastern Nazarene College and a PhD in history from the University of Minnesota. He is the author of Holiness in 12 Steps (2020). He is a Vietnam veteran and is retired, living with his daughter and three grandchildren in Connecticut.