Quackers got up from her nest and led her noisy little chicks to the water to teach them to swim. As was her habit every day for many months, she leapt onto the side of the green plastic turtle and waddled into the cool, refreshing water. But her chicks could not leap like she did. They were too small. In a cacophony of panic-stricken chirping, they tried and tried, but could not leap high enough to get in the water.
The kindly woman heard the terrible sound of the frightened little chicks and came running, thinking that it might be another opossum. When she saw the desperate little chicks leaping and failing to scale the green plastic wall, she knew just what to do. The woman built two little ramps of stone and earth right up to the edge of the turtle. Then she placed each chick on one of the ramps so they could learn how to get up to the water's edge.
Very shortly, the clutch of chicks was happily swimming around like experts, even though it was their first time ever in the water. They followed behind the proudest mother of all, imitating her every move. Quackers swam to the left. And the chicks swam to the left. Quackers swam to the right. And the chicks swam to the right. Quackers briefly dunked her head and shoulders under the water, and they all dunked their little heads and shoulders under the water. Quackers churned the water with her majestic wing feathers. But the chicks had no wing feathers. So they spread open their tiny little, downy wing sprouts, and flapped them as hard as they could. No water churned. Having finished their baths, they all took a long drink. Then Quackers left the water and walked into the garden. One by one, the downy little chicks leapt from the water onto the green, plastic embankment and tumbled and stumbled over the side into the garden.
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