It was Winter in a country of NZ, though most of the years it looks pack and pretty but no it is ugly and flat. The wheat was green, the oats were black, the hay was wet, sticky and yucky to roll in. The country is hideous.
Some ducks built some nest under some burdock. The duck made some egg and six of them were grey and ugly, and there were five white ones. The duck was always puzzled about that egg, and how it came to be so different from the rest.
Ducks are not clever at all, and are not quick at counting, so this duck did not worry herself about the matter, but just took care that the huge egg should be as warm as the rest of the eggs. This was the first 11 eggs that the duck has laid.
The mother of the ducklings was very pleased and proud, to begin with and laughed at the other mothers, who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and evening that were necessary for health.
She kept on looking at the eggs for then a hundred times. With tears of joy she saw two eggs that have crack a bit. Next morning she was rewarded by noticing cracks in the whole five eggs, and by after noon two little yellow heads were poking out from the egg shells. This encouraged the mother so much that, after breaking the shells with her bill, so that the little creatures could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night upon the nest, and before the sun arose the five white eggs were empty, and ten pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world.
From now on the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt, and besides, broken shells are not at all comfortable things to put your buttocks on or walk on it. So she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt delighted to have some company to talk to till the big egg hatched.
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