The Ugly Duckling

Quick Answer

Why This Story Works for Bedtime

It’s emotional but deeply reassuring: loneliness turns into belonging. For bedtime, it’s perfect for kids who feel different—ending with a warm sense of home.

Story Synopsis

A mother duck’s eggs hatch, and one duckling is noticeably larger and clumsier than the rest. From the beginning, the little one is treated as a problem. The other ducklings peck at it. The animals in the yard mock it. Even those who should protect it grow impatient. Unable to stay where it’s not wanted, the duckling runs away. It tries to join new groups—wild ducks, geese, farm animals—but everywhere it goes, it is chased, laughed at, or misunderstood. Seasons change. Cold arrives. The duckling struggles through loneliness, hunger, and the ache of not knowing where it belongs. Yet something inside keeps it moving. The duckling survives the winter and, when spring comes, sees a group of swans gliding on the water. Drawn to their beauty, it approaches, expecting rejection again. Instead, when it looks into the water, it sees the truth: it is no longer the awkward gray duckling. It has grown into a swan. The ‘ugliness’ was never its essence—only a stage on the way to becoming itself. The other swans welcome it, and the world finally reflects kindness back. The Ugly Duckling is a gentle reminder that growing takes time, and belonging can be waiting for you even when you can’t see it yet.

Story Excerpt

It was a bright, lovely summer in the countryside. Golden corn nodded in the fields, green oats rippled in the breeze, and haystacks sat like warm, sweet-smelling hills in the meadows. A stork walked about on long red legs, chattering in his own old language. Beyond the fields were deep forests and still pools that looked dark and cool. Near a pleasant old farmhouse, a river ran slowly past. Great burdock leaves grew down to the water’s edge—so tall that a child could have stood beneath them like under a green umbrella. In that snug, hidden place, a mother duck sat on her nest. She had been waiting a long time. At last—crack!—one shell broke. Then another. One by one, little heads popped out. “Peep, peep,” they cried. “Quack, quack,” said the mother, and the ducklings tried their best to quack too. They blinked up at the wide green leaves around them. “How big the world is!” the ducklings said, as if they could hardly believe it. “Do you think this is the whole world?” their mother asked. “Wait until you’ve seen the garden. It stretches far beyond, all the way to the parson’s field. I’ve never gone that far myself.” Then she counted her eggs—and paused. “All of you?” she murmured. “No… the largest egg is still here. How long will this take? I’m quite tired of waiting.” Just then an old duck came waddling up to visit. “Well,” the old duck asked, “how are you getting on?” “One egg won’t hatch,” said the mother duck. “But look at the others—aren’t they the prettiest ducklings? They’re the image of their father, who is so unkind he never comes to see.” “Let me look at the egg that won’t break,” said the old duck, peering closely. “Hmm. I’m afraid it’s a turkey’s egg. I once hatched some, and after all my trouble, the young ones were scared of the water. I quacked and clucked, but it did no good. My advice? Leave that egg. Teach the others to swim.” “I think I’ll sit on it a little longer,” the mother duck said.

In One Glance