Funny Frank (3 page)

“But I can't forget it,” said the chick, and in his eagerness to do as the ducklings did, he took another couple of steps forward till the water was up to his knees. “Don't go!” he called to his new friends. “Just tell me, what do I do next?”

And with one voice, they called back
one word: “Drown!” And they paddled away, making their laughing noises.

The chick took another couple of steps until he felt the water against his breast— and very cold it felt too. At that moment he heard the noise of pounding footsteps, and turned to see Jemima—the farmer's
daughter—running toward him. Then hands grasped him and scooped him up.

“You silly boy!” said a voice in his ear. “Whatever d'you think you're doing? Anyone would suppose you were trying to swim. Chickens can't, you know. Waterproof feathers and webbed feet— that's what you need for swimming.”

Jemima carried the chick into the
kitchen of the farmhouse and was drying his wet bits when her mother came in.

“What have you got there, Jemima?” she asked.

“One of those eight chicks that are out in the orchard, Mum. He was wading into the duck pond, silly boy. Perhaps he thinks he's a duck. I told him chickens aren't cut out for swimming.”

“And what did he say?”

“He made a funny noise, almost as though he was angry at being picked up.”

She held the chick out before her face. “Didn't you, Frank?”

“Frank? Is that what you are going to call him?” her mother asked.

“Well, that was what the funny noise sounded like.‘Frank! Frank!’ he squawked. I can't put him back in the orchard, Mum—he'll drown himself, I'm sure he will. Won't you, funny Frank?”

“Where are you going to keep him, then?”

“I'll put him in that big empty rabbit hutch till I decide what to do. I'll ask Uncle Ted, he might know.”

Uncle Ted was Jemima's father's brother. He was a vet, which was very useful whenever Jemima's father had a sick animal.

Jemima called her uncle at his office. “Uncle Ted,” she said. “It's Jemima. I want to ask you about something. Are you coming anywhere near us today?” “Yes,” said Ted Tabb, “as a matter of fact, I am. My last call is only a couple of miles from you. I'll look in if you like. About teatime. Just in case your mum has got any of those fruit scones about.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“What's the trouble, Jemima?”

#x201C;I've got a chicken that wants to be a duck!”

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

“Tea's ready,” called Jemima's mother. “Either of you fancy one of my fruit scones?” she asked, just as her husband and his brother came into the kitchen.

“Yes please, Carrie,” said Ted.

“Me too,” said his brother Tom, and
then,“What's up, then, Ted? I never called you.”

“No, but Jemima did,” said the vet. “Seems she's got a problem with one of her chicks.”

“I expect you'll sort it out,” said the farmer. “Mind he doesn't charge you too much, Jemima.”

When a lot of tea had been drunk and the plate of fruit scones was empty, Jemima's father went off to start the afternoon milking.

“Right,” said her uncle. “Let's have a look at this creature of yours.”

Jemima went outside and took Frank out of the rabbit hutch. “He's healthy enough, I think, Uncle Ted, isn't he?” she said.

The vet examined the young chicken. “Looks okay to me,” he said, “and you're right—by the look of his comb and the set of his tail, he's a cockerel chick.”

“I thought so,” said Jemima. “I've named him Frank.”

“Well then, Frank,” said Ted, “let's go down to the duck pond and see what happens.” He went to his car and put on a pair of wellies—his Wellington boots, that is—to keep his feet dry.

As soon as Frank was put down at the edge of the pond and saw the brood of ducklings come swimming past, squeaking at him, and saw the big ducks dabbling and splashing and preening and heard them quacking happily to each other, he made up his mind. He would learn to swim.