Billie the wild child, p.1
Billie the Wild Child, page 1
To everyone who dreams of spreading their wings
CHAPTER 1 I Am Not a Pet!
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Billie shuffled around in the darkness, his orange webbed feet sliding against cardboard. With every rise and fall, he bumped against the other ducklings… or were they bumping into him? He couldn’t quite tell! All he knew was that he and his friends were stuffed into a box together and that they were being carried far away from the only home he knew.
Since hatching, Billie and his friends had lived at Sunny Lake. Every day, Billie would line up in a row with the other ducklings and waddle through the grass, one after another, hopping in the water for a nice, cool dip. Oh, how he loved that lake! Being one of eight ducklings meant that he had plenty of pals to splash around with, and whenever it was time to go for a walk, he always knew exactly where to go as long as he stayed in line with the others.
But on this day something had gone wrong. He’d followed them straight into a drainage pipe, where all they could do was peep and cheep for help.
Now, thumping about in that box, Billie found himself confused and disgruntled. He was grateful that someone had helped him and his friends out of the pipe, but stuffing them into a pitch-black box seemed more than a little uncalled for!
“That’s humans for you,” one of the ducklings said. “They can’t be trusted.”
Billie tried to peer through the little holes in the cardboard, but he couldn’t see a thing. “Where are they taking us?” he asked. But no one knew.
Finally, with one last thud, the box landed on a hard, flat surface. The eight ducklings looked toward the sky, watching as the flaps of the box opened one by one. But as the light flooded in, Billie didn’t see clouds or sunshine. He saw bright electric lighting overhead, partially covered by shadowy human faces looking down at him.
The ducklings erupted with startled peeps at the sight of the humans. “Nope, nope, nope,” Billie grumbled as he wedged himself between his downy pals. “I’m not a people duck.”
The people muttered and pointed with their long, wiggling fingers, and Billie tried to hide behind the others and close his eyes. But when he peeked through one suspicious eye, he could have sworn the humans were all pointing directly at him.
Being part of a group meant he had never been singled out in his life. “Why me?” Billie asked, trying again to blend into the crowd. But now the giant fingers were getting closer and closer, writhing in pursuit of Billie and Billie alone.
A cold hand wrapped around his little lemon-colored body and pulled him away from the others as he repeated, “Why me?!”
He wriggled and writhed and nibbled fingers with his tiny beak, doing everything he could to express himself as he was carried away from the wildlife center and toward a door marked SMALL PETS. The human plopped Billie into a bin on a shelf, along with a stuffed animal in the shape of a baby chick and some tiny bowls containing water and dry pellets. But none of this appealed to him—he needed to know where he was and, more important, how to get to the exit!
“Where is my flock? What is this horrible holding cell you’ve placed me in?” He flipped over the bowl of pellets to signal his disapproval. “I don’t belong here!”
A small voice snickered in the cage to his right. It was a small, furry animal who looked similar to the muskrats who used to swim around the lake.
“Mr. Muskrat! Can you help me? Can you tell me how to get back to the lake?” Billie begged.
“Muskrat?” the animal replied. “Young sir, I am no muskrat. I am a guinea pig. And I know nothing about any lake. Besides, the only water I need is right here,” he said, sticking out his tongue and licking a metal ball at the end of a water bottle. “Also, my name is Tofu Taco the Third.”
Billie tilted his head in confusion. He had never met a guinea pig before and had never heard such a silly name in all his life.
While Tofu focused on his water bottle, Billie tried another neighbor. He turned to his left and was relieved to see what he thought was a wild hare. “Oh, Ms. Rabbit! You should be out hopping around in the grass! But you’re here, stuck in a cage… Don’t you miss the outside? Haven’t you tried to escape?”
“Outside?” laughed the rabbit, who introduced herself as Cupcake Sprinkles. “Can’t say I’ve ever been. My last home was a condo.”
Billie’s head was spinning. Who were these animals with funny names who knew nothing of the wonders of nature? “But… animals belong outside,” Billie said. “Don’t they?”
“Let me explain something,” Tofu Taco III began, clearing his throat. “There are two types of animals: wild animals and domestical… domestic… domesticalated.”
“… Domesticated,” Cupcake Sprinkles chimed in, nodding.
“Yeah, what she said. Anyway, wild animals go to the wildlife center down the hall, and once they’re healthy, they go back and live in nature where they belong. You know, field mice, baby raccoons, songbirds… Animals like that. But not us. We’re pets, so we stay here in the adoption center. That is, until a human gives us a forever home.”
Billie tensed up. “I am not a pet!” he insisted.
“But of course you are,” laughed Tofu Taco III, who was starting to get on his nerves. “Just look at you.”
“I’m a duck!” Billie shouted. “Hello, can’t you see my little wings? My tail feathers?” He shook his tail to make his point.
Tofu Taco III smirked. “Well, there are wild ducks and there are pet ducks. You are here in the ‘Small Pets’ room, so… you are clearly a pet.”
“And clearly small!” Cupcake Sprinkles giggled.
Billie fell to the floor and sighed heavily through his little orange beak.
“Don’t be sad! Being a pet is great,” Cupcake Sprinkles explained. “From here, you’ll either go to a foster home or an adopter. You just have to wait for a person to come here and fall in love with you.”
“Fall in what?! I don’t think so. I’m a wild duck! I’m not trying to fall in love with any humans. Trust me, there’s been some kind of huge mistake here. Just watch: any minute now, they’ll be here to bring me back to the wildlife center, and then my flock and I will be on our way back to Sunny Lake.”
Soon enough, a person arrived and picked up Billie in his bin. He looked to the small animals and stuck out his tongue as if to say I told you so. He wouldn’t have to stay in the adoption center and be given a silly name like Peanut Butter Sandwich or Ice Cream Cone, or worse! Now—he hoped—he could return to a dignified life on the water. “Smell ya later!” he shouted as he waved goodbye with his tiny wing.
But instead of heading toward the wildlife center, Billie watched from his bin as he passed through the streets. Stuck between four clear walls, all he could do was watch his fate unfold before him. Eventually, they stopped at the front door of a house. The door creaked open, and a human stood in the doorway, collecting him and bringing him inside. A small white cat peeked out from behind the human’s leg, softly saying, “Welcome to Fosterland.”
CHAPTER 2 I Am Not Cute!
Billie awoke the next morning with tall plastic walls surrounding him on all sides. The human—who he now considered “the guard”—had placed him in some kind of large holding area, where he was being kept against his will.
Everything felt artificial. The air was stagnant, with not a hint of breeze. The ground was composed of smooth wood, with no grass or dirt or worms. The usual soundtrack of crickets and frogs was replaced by an eerie silence, the only sound being the hum of the small refrigerator across the room.
Billie huffed as he paced in a circle, grumbling to himself. “Pet duck. Well, I never! Just wait till the others hear about this.…”
Set on escaping, he thought about how the grown-up ducks at the lake would flap their wings and fly. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to envision the wind beneath his wings, carrying him through the air. The thought alone made him feel calm and at ease.
He flapped his wings… and nothing happened.
Furrowing his brow, Billie stood up tall and tried again. But he remained on the floor.
Billie’s wings looked like two tiny triangles thinly coated with yellow fuzz. And no matter how hard he flapped them, his little fluffy body stayed exactly where it was. “Rrrruh!” he called out as he leapt and flapped over and over, trying desperately to fly.
“Ah, pond scum!” Why wasn’t it working?
He stomped to the other side of his pen, where breakfast had been laid out for him by the guard. While he wasn’t keen on eating the strange prepared meal earlier, the truth was that all that flapping had now made him very, very hungry.
What is all this? Billie wondered as he sniffed the dishes. Usually, he would spend the whole day searching the lakeside for insects and larvae and bits of plants in the water, but here he seemed to have a full day’s worth of food just sitting in a bowl.
First, he tried a bit of the porridge. “It’s fine, I guess,” he said aloud. Less fun than digging for worms, though.
Next, he tried a bite of the leafy greens. “That’s actually pretty nice. Good texture, a bit of grassy flavor…”
And finally, it was time to sample a blueberry. He looked at the small round fruit, never having seen anything like it in his life. The blueberry was so big—or perhaps he was so small—that he could hardly place his beak around it. Slowly, he opened his mouth as wide as he could and bit down on the ripe fruit.
Pop! Berry juice spilled into his mouth.
It was the most deli
“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself!” came a voice from the doorway. It was Eloise, the one-eyed white cat who had welcomed him to Fosterland. She sauntered toward him with her tail swishing.
Billie was so shocked to see her that he swallowed a berry whole with a loud gulp! He turned around and stood up as tall as he could, which was only about three inches high. “It’s not what it looks like. I am not enjoying myself! Actually, I demand to know where I am and why I’m being held like some sort of prisoner.…”
Eloise smirked. “Whoa there, little guy. This is far from a prison. This is Fosterland! It’s a wonderful place where any baby animal would be happy to grow up while they wait for their forever home. We proudly serve puppies and piglets and oh-so-many kittens and, of course, cute little ducklings like you.”
Billie stomped his foot adorably. “I am not cute!”
Eloise smiled, seeming to wink. “Sure you aren’t.”
“Listen, this might be a great place for puppies and piglets and kittens, but it isn’t the place for me,” Billie explained. “I don’t belong here. I’m supposed to be with the other ducklings.”
Eloise knew just what to say. “Well, you’re in for a real treat, then… because there are two other ducklings here waiting to be your friends.”
“There are?” Billie perked up. He hadn’t seen another duckling in a whole day!
“There are,” Eloise replied. “They’re just in the other room with all the kittens, getting checked in for foster care. I’m sure they’ll join you any minute now.”
Billie sighed, relieved to hear that he would have other ducklings to talk to soon. Surely they would understand him. Maybe they could even help lead him back to the lake! He sat up tall and tried to groom some of the blueberry juice from his neck, hoping to make a good first impression.
CHAPTER 3 I Am Not Striped?
Down the hallway, the sound of singing was getting closer and closer.
“Blueberries and creeeaaam!” squawked a voice in a musical tone.
“Ain’t it just a dreeeaaam!” a second voice belted out comically.
Billie looked to the doorway. The guard was approaching, and she was carrying a box with two singing ducklings inside. She placed the box into Billie’s pen, then tilted it gently.
Billie watched with great anticipation as two larger ducklings tap-danced their way out of the box, singing over one another and laughing with delight.
These ducklings looked nothing like his friends at all. They were goofy, gigantic, and strangest of all, they were bright yellow. But none of that mattered—they were ducklings!
“Eep! Well, aren’t you just adorable!” said one duckling to Billie, bending over to take a look at him.
“Oh my! That’s the tiniest duckling I’ve ever seen!” said the other, poking him with her beak. “Is he real?”
“Yes, I’m real!” Billie peeped. “I’m Billie! And it is good to see you two! I’ve just had the strangest couple of days. First I was in a box… and then I was in another box… and then… there were rabbits and guinea pigs and a cat, and, well… no one could understand my predicament!”
“Billie, nice to meet you,” said the duckling with the spotted beak. “I’m Marlie.”
“And I’m Charlie! We’re sisters. Can ya tell?” said the other duckling as she bumped tail feathers with Marlie. “So, tell us… what’s the problem?”
Billie gestured toward the walls. “Well, isn’t it obvious? All of us are stuck here, and we can’t get out!” he cried. He looked around to make sure the guard and Eloise were gone, then leaned in and quietly said, “But don’t worry. I’m already plotting our escape.” Or at least he was plotting to plot their escape. He didn’t see any weaknesses in their holding cell now, but there had to be one somewhere.
“Escape?” Marlie screamed. “But we just got here!”
“Yeah, and the amenities are fantastic! Did you try the blueberries yet? They’re heavenly!” Charlie added. Her feet started to dance yet again, and she momentarily broke back into song. “Blueberries and cream!”
Billie was confused. “Yeah, I tried them, and they’re really good. But… don’t you want to get out of here?”
The sisters shook their heads rapidly, their big orange beaks moving left to right over and over like flags in the wind. It was clear that they had no intention of leaving.
“You’re… happy to be here?” Billie asked.
The sisters sang in unison: “Yesssss!”
Billie looked up at Marlie and Charlie, who were about four times his size. How was it possible they were interpreting this situation so positively? Why did he feel miserable, but they felt like singing and dancing? And… why did they look so different from the ducklings at the pond?
“I don’t mean to pry, but… where are your stripes and spots?” he asked.
“Stripes and spots? Only wild ducklings look like that!” Marlie laughed. “We’re not wild ducks. We’re pets.”
“Yeah! That’s why we’re solid yellow, just like you,” Charlie agreed.
Billie’s heart sank. What did they mean by “just like” him?
Marlie continued. “You’re thinking of… what are they called, mallards? Those are the wild ones with the brown stripes and whatnot, right, Charlie?”
“Yeah, mallards! We learned about them in school, remember?” Charlie confirmed. “But we aren’t mallards, you silly goose—er—duck! Ha ha! We’re Pekins. That’s why we’re yellow, all three of us!”
Billie slowly turned his head to the side and tilted it dramatically, trying to get a look at his back. All of his friends at the lake had beautiful brown stripes and spots, and he always assumed he looked the same. But to his surprise, it appeared that Marlie and Charlie were right—he didn’t have stripes after all.
“I’m… solid yellow?” Billie asked, confused.
“Bright as the sun!” Charlie replied. “And cute as a button.”
Now Billie was really lost. All his life he’d assumed he belonged in the wild, but if it was true that he looked just like Marlie and Charlie, then that explained why he had been separated from the others.
“Don’t be so sad, little guy!” Marlie said, taking Billie under her tiny wing. “Fosterland is like paradise, can’t you see? This is the best possible place for a duckling to end up. This is the good life.”
“Yep. You are one lucky duck,” Charlie agreed. “And don’t forget, Fosterland is just a waystation. Someday, when we go to Foreverland, it’ll be even better!”
Billie sat between them, thinking. His brain was swirling, but his body was comforted by the protective feeling of their warmth and their feathers against his. At least he had some nice company while he sorted this all out. He burrowed down between them.
“You know, I’m happy we’re here with you,” Marlie said. “Where we came from, the future can be pretty uncertain. But now that we’re here, things are looking up.”
“Where did you come from?” Billie asked, tilting his head to gaze up at his new friend.
“Well, we were hatched in a classroom,” Marlie explained. “It’s fun for a while, but the truth of the matter is that so many of us end up abandoned… or brought to some awful farm.…”
“For two whole weeks you’re passed around, held, and loved, and then—just like that—you’re old news.” Charlie looked down at her webbed feet. “And no one thinks about what happens to us after we go.”
Billie had never heard of something so horrible. “So that’s how you ended up here?”
Marlie and Charlie nodded, and he could understand why they loved it as much as they did.
“We got really lucky. This is our chance at a happy future,” Marlie said. “A future where we are really loved—forever.”
“And the future looks even brighter now that the three of us are together!” Charlie added.
The ducklings sat in a silent huddle, smiling with their eyes shut. An even brighter future, Billie pondered to himself. He couldn’t imagine a life better than the one he’d had at the lake, but if his new friends were right, he wondered if maybe he should give it a chance after all.
