The Canal Path Home

On Saturday, Abel played football for the town club. His team lost three to two. His younger sister Freya watched from the side. She wore a big green scarf. She shouted all game.

After the match, the sky was already dark. The coach said, "The bus is full. Can you get home by yourselves?"

"Yes," Abel said.

"We know a way."

The way was the canal path. It was a long, quiet road beside the water. In the day, many people walked there. At night, it was empty. Freya did not love the idea. "Is it safe?" she asked.

"It is just a path," Abel said.

"And I have a torch."

He took the small torch from his bag. The light was weak and yellow. They started to walk. The water was black and still. The trees stood tall on both sides. Freya held her brother's sleeve.

"You played well today," she said.

"We lost," Abel said.

"You scored two goals. I counted." Abel smiled in the dark.

"Thank you."

After a while, they heard a strange sound. It was a thin, sharp noise. Peep, peep, peep. It came from the left side of the path. "What is that?" Freya whispered.

Abel pointed the torch at the grass. Near the edge, a mother duck stood very still. She looked at them and made a low noise. Behind her, there was a deep ditch. It was about as deep as a chair. Six tiny ducklings stood at the bottom. They were small and wet. They tried to climb out. The earth was too steep.

"They fell in," Freya said. Her voice shook.

"Yes," Abel said.

"And the mother cannot reach them." Abel put his bag on the ground. He lay down and stretched his arm into the ditch. It was too short. He could not touch the ducklings.

"I need something long," he said. Freya looked around. Near a tree, there was an old board. It was dirty and thin, but strong. She pulled it out and dragged it over.

"Good," Abel said.

"Put one end here."

They put one end on the path. They put the other end in the ditch. Now the board was like a small hill. Abel put dry leaves on it. The ducklings could grip better.

Then they waited. The ducklings did not move. The mother duck made a soft noise. One duckling looked up. Then it walked onto the board. It slipped and fell down. It tried again. This time, it climbed three steps. "Come on," Freya whispered. "Come on, little one."

At last the first duckling jumped onto the path. It ran to its mother. Then came the second, and the third. Abel and Freya held their breath. The fourth duckling fell twice, but it did not stop. The fifth was fast. The sixth stood at the bottom for a long time.

"Come," Abel said. He put out one finger, very slowly. The duckling looked at it. Then it ran up the board. The family was together again.

The mother duck looked at the two children. Then she walked away down the path. All six ducklings followed her in a straight line. Abel stood up. His knees were wet, and his hands were dirty. His torch was weak, but he smiled.

"You are the best player on the team," Freya said.

"It is only a duck rescue."

"Two goals and six ducklings," Freya said.

"I will tell Mum tonight." They walked home together. They did not need the torch any more. A round yellow moon came up over the water.