Podge the duck was bobbing on his little pond, blissfully content with his life at Miller farm. True, there was ‘The Great River’, as Podge thought of it, just a few feet away, which he would just as soon was anywhere but within sight of his pond. But even with that mild annoyance, he considered himself, the most fortunate of ducks.
There was a soft plop, plop. It was coming from the direction of ‘The Great River’ which was in fact, a slow running stream, that travelled past his duck pond. Podge swiftly began to turn away from the stream he so disliked, until a faint whiff of something carried on the breeze…food. He followed his beak towards ‘The Great River’ and then paused, floating on the water, debating.
On the one hand, he immensely mistrusted the flowing water that moved in strange and unpredictable ways. The last time he had gone into it, the water had dragged him from his nice, comfortable, lovely home at the farm, and down into the horrible hustle and bustle of the town. On the other hand, he did like his food, which was about the only thing that could tempt him towards ‘The Great River’.
Since Podge felt himself just ready for a snack, he made his way to the edge of his pond, and got out, jingling the cold, metal item that the farmer’s wife had secured about his neck. A thing the humans called, ‘A key.’
He waddled over to the stream. There floating in the water was some bread, his favourite. It was close enough that he didn’t have to in to get it; even better. So eager was he to scoop up this tasty treat that he didn’t notice that it was emulating a strange scent, and had a faint twinkling that could only be…magic.
Even had he stopped to examine the floating treasure, that was his snack, he still would not have recognised it. He didn’t know anything of magic. He left that to the dogs, Titchy and Poppy, who, had they been there, would have bitten his tail feather to keep him from it. As it was, they were out with their master and his wife.
As Podge tucked into his magic infused bread, he felt something stirring in his mind; magic. Not familiar with magic, or what it felt like he fancied himself developing a headache.
A second helping of bread landed before him, and what could he do but gobble it up like the last lot. For everyone knew that a hearty meal was the best cure for an achy head, as it was a cure for most things in general.
“Come on ducky,” said a male voice. “Go to sleep.”
Podge started. Through the years he had picked up one or two stray words of human talk, but never had he understood so clearly what a person was saying. Podge glanced up at the man, expecting to see a wizard feeding him so generously, otherwise how could he understand him, and so clearly. It did not occur to him, that the magic was with him, and not with the man.
Only it wasn’t a wizard who stood before him, but a man. A man he recognised as being a Tom somebody or another. A person very unpopular with the Millers, the humans who owned the farm. Podge went to turn away, he would not be fed by someone so disliked by his friends.
“Come on ducky,” he said, again. “Go to sleep, so I can get that key from around your neck.”
Podge tripped and stumbled in his shock. Steal his key! Never. Mrs Miller had given it to him, for, what he now realised for the first time, was for safekeeping.
The man rummaged in his bag. “I don’t understand, I used the whole bottle, like he said to.” He pulled out a small, empty green bottle. “Oh no, I gave him the wrong one.” He groaned. “What a waste of an intelligence enhancer.”
Podge tilted his head, listening with keen interest.
The man stuffed the now empty bag in his hand, back into his rucksack. “A super smart duck. What use is that to the world?”
He stared at Podge. Podge stared at him.
“Maybe it isn’t working,” he said.
Podge turned and sprinted as fast as his little legs would take him, into the one place, he always swore he’d never go again, ‘The Great River’.
“Oh no you don’t,” said Tom, throwing himself into the stream, but Podge was made for the water, and Tom was not. With the help of the magic whirling around his brain, he dodged him, gave him a quick kick in the head for daring to try to steal his key, and then was off, swimming full speed away from him.
Thanks to the magic in his mind, he knew which way to swim to take him further into the farm, rather than away from it, and back towards town.
A loud, angry voice followed him, “I’ll get into that barn, even without that key. You just see if I don’t.”
Once he was far enough away, Podge all but ran out the stream, as he now realised that it was. He stood and debated. Tom wanted to get into the barn. His food was in that barn! Along with countless other things he refused to see fall into the hands of a duck drugging, thief.
There was no way he could swim to town, and warn the Millers that there was an intruder, he was a duck, and the humans had yet to master duck speech. No, it was up to him.
He glanced around, his eyes fell on a tranquilliser gun. Podge gave a quack, and waddled over to it. That would do nicely. Even with his enhanced intelligence he wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, but he’d seen the farmer use it one animals in distress.
He circled it several times, examining it, until he thought he understood how it worked.
There was a noise.
Podge jumped and went towards the barn where it was coming from. Tom was knelt by the barn door trying to pick the lock.
There was no time to lose, his food was at stake.
He went back and nudged the gun along with his beak and lined it up with Tom’s feet. He pecked at the trigger. Nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing.
Tom turned and saw him. He advanced on him, but Podge stood his ground. Once more, he pecked at the trigger. This time a single shot went off and hit Tom in the ankle. Tom leapt up and down, grabbing his foot, which had a dart sticking into it.
Podge quacked with laughter. He’d done it.
Tom’s eyes locked on him. Podge made a hasty retreat. Tom dove and grabbed the gun, before firing at Podge, who dove for cover, and there he stayed, watching. First Tom swayed, and then he staggered, and then he fell over and a gentle snoring began.
Podge waited some time before he slowly came out of his hiding place, and approached the man. He didn’t stir. Podge pecked him to be sure he was unconscious. Nothing. He pecked him again, still nothing. He gave a quack of victory.
Then went to reward himself with a lie down. It had been a great while since Podge had done anything so strenuous. He needed a nap, and a good sleep before he could contemplate doing anything else. He curled up in a corner, to await the return of the Millers, who would know just what to do with Tom and promptly fell asleep.