Clemence the Insomniac Duckling - part 3

The sequence of events was as follows. With the season’s changing Mum and Dad had been forced to move their gaggle to a place where they could keep dry. They’d favoured shallow water and sheltered accommodation.

Relocating had proven quite the ordeal as the ducklings were still too young to fly. They’d finally settled for the night, and Irma and Doug had decided to take turns to guard their nest. First, Doug had checked on them, making sure that Clemence wasn’t faking sleep. She had the longest eyelashes of the lot, and they lay, restful, on her lower lid, indicating sound sleep.
Halfway through the night, Irma replaced Doug and, half asleep, checked on her brood. Despite her guarding duties, Mum had had trouble resisting sleep, exhausted by a day of moving. Her eyelids were pregnant with slumber and she had finally surrendered.

No sooner was that done, that Clemence had shot out of the bedroom. She swam as fast as she could into the moonlight. She was free. She was a dolphin, a fish, a shark and a boat. She was everything she’d ever wanted to be.

Clemence had started to develop unorthodox thoughts from within the egg. She had at a time managed to convince herself that she was a parrot, she’d make sounds that, in her head, were loud and sharp. She grew feathers that were blue and red, and her beak was long and decidedly hooked. She was also an otter with four legs and yacht with a motor.

Most pertinent of all had been her inability to rest. She was a curious sort, always feigning indifference to get away with mischief. Her life had, so far, been predictable. She was fed, loved, and number 7 in a family of 7. She’d long awaited this moment, when for the first time she’d make her entrance into the world as a steam ship.

She chose to take the form of this manmade machine because she felt invincible. Just like a ship, she’d gathered speed and sailed away, queen of the tide. She’d fantasized about this moment every night as she lay awake, unable to give in to sleep. She’d attempted her great escape once before but was too exposed.

On that fateful night, she’d hid in the shadows of the reeds and blended in with the rocks and pebbles, having practiced shallow breathing and prolonged immobility. She had heard of human rescues, but feared nothing as she wasn’t a duckling, but a steam boat with wings. As the night drew to a close, Clemence had rejoined the herons of Willow Pond: her ticket to freedom. She’d only looked over her shoulder once, when she thought she’d heard Paloma cry for her. But it was a duckling from another family, and no concern of hers.