She clawed at the nest and smoothed it over with her wings. Quietly she led the way out of the reed fields to keep from disturbing the reed warblers. The duckling kept looking back, reluctant to leave the water behind. His foot-dragging told Sprout they wouldnât get far.
The day was waning. Sprout climbed a shallow slope of grass that overlooked the reed fields. The cow that had been tied to the willow tree during the day had been led home. It had pulled the rope to its full length in order to graze on the grass at some distance from the tree, so the patch of grass just under the tree was lush and uneaten. Cow patties were scattered around the tree. It would be too dangerous to spend the night in the fields without cover. But Sprout mustered her courage. âI think we can spend one night here. The cow patties will hide our scent.â She dug a hole and spent the night in it, her wings wrapped around Baby. The overgrown grass hid them somewhat, but she remained wide awake.
The moon was bright. Baby, who had been quiet all evening, fell asleep, and Sprout could hear only the breeze rustling the grass. Watchful and alert, Sprout looked into the darkness. She was like Straggler now. Back then sheâd slept worry-free like Baby, while Straggler had stayed awake to keep the weasel away, flapping his wings and hollering. She had to be brave like Straggler: before he gave up his life, even the weasel was no match for him. She was startled by a memory, as though a drop of cold water had fallen on her headâthe weasel hadnât been able to get her in the Hole of Death because she was too feisty. She could face him as long as she was brave.
He canât touch us!
Sprout stepped away from the hole and looked down at the reed patch. She wished they hadnât had to leave the nest. She was now a wanderer without a home. She hadnât wanted to be shut in a cage, and she couldnât stay in the yard as sheâd hoped. Sheâd had to abandon their nest in the reeds. Tomorrow morning they would leave again. Why was this her life? Was it because she held out hope? She thought about Straggler. He was always in her heart, but often she wished he was right beside her. If she could only hear his voice and see his faceâ
Sprout caught sight of something moving.
She flattened herself on the ground. A dark shadow swiftly approached the reed fields. The weasel.
I knew it!
She froze in place and began to tremble. The weasel entered the reed fields. The stalks appeared to rustle for a moment, but then she couldnât see anything. Knowing the weasel would come out empty-jawed, she couldnât help but smile. She had won this battle.
Weâre not there! You canât catch us!
The weasel emerged from the reed fields and ran back to where he had come from.
The next day Sprout and Baby returned to the reed fields. Baby jumped into the water, and Sprout went to take a look at their nest. But then she saw something awful. The reed warblers had been attacked. Their nest was torn to shreds and broken shells were everywhere. The eggs had been just about to hatch! Their mother was gone. The male warbler wept as he circled above the reed fields. Sprout shuddered. As she left, she vowed not to make a permanent home anywhere. She would spot the hunterâs shadow before the hunter spotted them.
Â
JOINING THE BRACE
A long stretch of summer rain brought an enormous amount of water. The reservoir was so high that the reeds were almost completely submerged. These were difficult days for Sprout. It was hard to find a dry place, and because her feathers were always damp, she suffered from a continuous cold. She had become very thin because they changed nests every day and she didnât sleep well at night. Still, Baby was growing and looking quite duckish, a little more like Straggler every day. That pleased and amazed Sprout to no end. âBabyâ wasnât fitting for an adolescent duck, so she named him
The day was waning. Sprout climbed a shallow slope of grass that overlooked the reed fields. The cow that had been tied to the willow tree during the day had been led home. It had pulled the rope to its full length in order to graze on the grass at some distance from the tree, so the patch of grass just under the tree was lush and uneaten. Cow patties were scattered around the tree. It would be too dangerous to spend the night in the fields without cover. But Sprout mustered her courage. âI think we can spend one night here. The cow patties will hide our scent.â She dug a hole and spent the night in it, her wings wrapped around Baby. The overgrown grass hid them somewhat, but she remained wide awake.
The moon was bright. Baby, who had been quiet all evening, fell asleep, and Sprout could hear only the breeze rustling the grass. Watchful and alert, Sprout looked into the darkness. She was like Straggler now. Back then sheâd slept worry-free like Baby, while Straggler had stayed awake to keep the weasel away, flapping his wings and hollering. She had to be brave like Straggler: before he gave up his life, even the weasel was no match for him. She was startled by a memory, as though a drop of cold water had fallen on her headâthe weasel hadnât been able to get her in the Hole of Death because she was too feisty. She could face him as long as she was brave.
He canât touch us!
Sprout stepped away from the hole and looked down at the reed patch. She wished they hadnât had to leave the nest. She was now a wanderer without a home. She hadnât wanted to be shut in a cage, and she couldnât stay in the yard as sheâd hoped. Sheâd had to abandon their nest in the reeds. Tomorrow morning they would leave again. Why was this her life? Was it because she held out hope? She thought about Straggler. He was always in her heart, but often she wished he was right beside her. If she could only hear his voice and see his faceâ
Sprout caught sight of something moving.
She flattened herself on the ground. A dark shadow swiftly approached the reed fields. The weasel.
I knew it!
She froze in place and began to tremble. The weasel entered the reed fields. The stalks appeared to rustle for a moment, but then she couldnât see anything. Knowing the weasel would come out empty-jawed, she couldnât help but smile. She had won this battle.
Weâre not there! You canât catch us!
The weasel emerged from the reed fields and ran back to where he had come from.
The next day Sprout and Baby returned to the reed fields. Baby jumped into the water, and Sprout went to take a look at their nest. But then she saw something awful. The reed warblers had been attacked. Their nest was torn to shreds and broken shells were everywhere. The eggs had been just about to hatch! Their mother was gone. The male warbler wept as he circled above the reed fields. Sprout shuddered. As she left, she vowed not to make a permanent home anywhere. She would spot the hunterâs shadow before the hunter spotted them.
Â
JOINING THE BRACE
A long stretch of summer rain brought an enormous amount of water. The reservoir was so high that the reeds were almost completely submerged. These were difficult days for Sprout. It was hard to find a dry place, and because her feathers were always damp, she suffered from a continuous cold. She had become very thin because they changed nests every day and she didnât sleep well at night. Still, Baby was growing and looking quite duckish, a little more like Straggler every day. That pleased and amazed Sprout to no end. âBabyâ wasnât fitting for an adolescent duck, so she named him
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