5. The Icy Lake

TALES OF DINGDONG FOREST Part 5

TALES OF DINGDONG FOREST

5. The Icy Lake

It was no fun being a duck in winter. Dicky Duck, who was really quite small as ducks go, knew that much because he’d lived in DingDong Forest and next to the lake for quite a long time.

It gets cold in winter and sometimes even the lake froze over. Once he’d actually been sitting on it, minding his own business, when that had happened! He hadn’t noticed it, but the water turned into ice. And there he was, stuck in the ice and nobody anywhere near to help him.

Other ducks jeered at him for being foolish and wouldn’t help him, and Sneery Swan, head held high, noticed when the water froze and decided to fly to somewhere warmer where the water wouldn’t freeze, so he couldn’t help him either.

And then he was lucky.

Gorgeous Anne came along.

Gorgeous Anne was a girl who often walked slowly to the lake when she wasn’t busy reading, curled up on the settee at home or, in the summer, lying on the lawn. She had been christened Gorgeous when she was born because, her mother and father agreed, she was gorgeous. Even the fact that she had spent a lot of her life in hospital being operated on by special doctors because the bones in her legs had never been right didn’t stop her from being gorgeous.

The doctors had all said that she should get as much exercise as possible. So her parents were quite happy seeing her wander off where they knew it was safe as long as she was careful near the lake.

Gorgeous Anne saw that Dicky Duck seemed to be stuck in the ice. He tried to flap his wings but he was stuck fast, and the ice was getting colder and thicker and Dicky was getting desperate.

“Help me,” he quacked, “I can’t move and I think I’m starting to freeze to death.”

Gorgeous coudn’lt understand duck language, of course, because she was a human girl and only knew one of the many human languages. But she did see Dicky’s problem, and it was truly fortunate that the duck was very close to the shore of the lake so that she could reach him safely. After all, Gorgeous had been told many, many times not to go near the water.

“You poor thing,” she said to the duck, and she kneeled on the cold ground, glad that her jeans were nice and thick. Then she tried to break the ice away from Dicky’s feathers.

It took her ages, but bit by bit she whittled the ice and bit by bit her fingers got icy cold. But in the end Dicky was able to flutter, shivering and shaking, onto the shore next to where Gorgeous was shivering and shaking. That was two of them, then, shivering and shaking from the cold ice.

“If you like,” said Gorgeous to Dicky, “I’ll take you home with me and warm you by the fire in our living room. It’ll mean you won’t get poorly from being cold.”

Dicky couldn’t understand a word she said, but there was something warming about her voice, and he quacked thankfully.

Gorgeous bent down and went to pick him up, and he let her. He wouldn’t have let anyone pick him up if he was nice and warm, but he was very, very cold. He quacked very thankfully to her, and she understood.

When they got to Gorgeous’s home her mother was in the kitchen making some bread, and it smelled delicious.

“What have you got there, darling?” she asked.

“This little duck was caught in the ice,” explained Gorgeous, “and I thought he was going to die of cold, and I didn’t like that idea, so I set him free, and here he is so that he can get warm by the fire.”

“You wonderful daughter, thinking of others when you’ve had so much trouble of your own,” sighed her mother, and she shed a little tear of love and understanding.

An hour later Gorgeous was told it was time to return Dicky to where he’d been when he’d been discovered trapped in ice.

“Not in the ice!” exclaimed Gorgeous, “he’ll only get stuck again, and if I’m not there to help him he’ll probably die!”

“Of course not, darling, but close to it. He’ll have his own home somewhere near, and it’ll probably be nice and snug and warm.”

It wasn’t far for Gorgeous to go back to the lake, and she took her time because sometimes she found walking hard and her legs hurt.

“You’ll be nice and warm when you get home,” she said cheerfully, and Dicky quacked back, she hoped in agreement.

“Maybe you’ve got a brother and sister in your nest,” said Gorgeous, imagining what it must be like to have a feathery nest near a lake, and thinking that no matter how feathery jt was it was still probably quite cold.

“You poor thing,” she added, and he looked at her and ruefully shook his beak in total agreement.

Eventually she was back at the lakeside, and carefully she placed Dicky down on the frozen grass.

“This is nice,” she told him, but she knew that it wasn’t. He looked at her and gently shook his head.

“I’ll leave you now and go home,” she said, “it’s getting late, and it’ll probably be a very cold night.”

Dicky ruffled his feathers, and shivered.

Gorgeous wasn’t very happy as she walked back home because she knew the duck was cold and unhappy. But what could she do? Mummy had told her the best thing to do was to take the duck back, and she’d done that. She was a good girl and normally did as she was told.

As she walked along she got a strange feeling. It was as if there was someone following her, but when she glanced back to see who it might be there was nobody there, and she started to feel a little bit afraid.

“I was being followed. I know that I was, and I hope it wasn’t a bogeyman,” she said when she was in the warm kitchen that still smelt of freshly baked bread.

“How awful,” said mother, and she went to look out of the door. “If I see him I’ll give him a piece of my mind!” she exclaimed angrily.

But when she got looked there was nobody anywhere near.

“You must have been day-dreaming,” she said, and was interrupted.

“Quack,” said a familiar voice, and when she looked down at the ground it was to see Dicky Duck.

“Why,” she said, “he must have followed you all the way back home! Maybe he thought that if we let him stay here for the night he’d be a lot warmer!”

“And drier,” agreed Gorgeous, “look: it’s started raining and he probably doesn’t like cold rain! He’ll have to stay, won’t he mummy?”

“I suppose so,” sighed her mother, “I’ll put some rags in a box, and he’ll have to sleep on that tonight.”

© Peter Rogerson, 21.11.20