Crack! Pipkin popped out last. Sunlight spilled across the straw. Outside, the other ducklings hurried to the pond. Pipkin heard splash-splash and whispered, “Oh.”
He waddled out to look. The pond slapped his toes. The grassy lane tickled his feet. The red barn glowed with sleepy hay dust. Pipkin kept going.
At the pond, a clump of weeds dragged across the water. The ducklings bunched up, peeping and bumping their bills. Pipkin saw a skinny muddy edge beside them.
Tiptoe, tiptoe. Pipkin crept along the mud. Then he gave the weeds one hard tug. “SPLORP!” Everyone flew backward in a silly splash.
The water opened wide. The ducklings paddled through. Pipkin drifted beside them, and one happy peep made him lift his head just a little higher.
All the way home, Pipkin paddled a little taller. Bright ripples winked in the sun as the ducklings went with him toward the red barn.
