The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck by Beatrix Potter

Books at Bedtime by Calming Anxiety, the tale of Jemima Paddleduck by Beatrix Potter.

What a funny sight it is to see a brood of ducklings with a hen. Listen to the story of Jemima Paddleduck who was annoyed because the farmer's wife would not let her hatch her own eggs. The sister-in-law, Mrs. Rebecca Paddleduck, was perfectly willing to leave the hatchings to someone else. I have not the patience to sit on a nest for 28 days and no more have you Jemima.

You would let them go cold, you know you would. I wish to hatch my own eggs. I will hatch them all by myself, quacked Jemima Paddleduck. She tried to hide her eggs but they were always found and carried off.

Jemima Paddleduck became quite desperate. She determined to make a nest right away from the farm. So she set off on a fine spring afternoon along the cart road that leads over the hill. She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet.

When she reached the top of the hill she saw a wood in the distance. She thought that it looked to save quiet spot. Jemima Paddleduck was not much in the habit of flying. She ran down hill a few yards, flapping her shawl and then she jumped off into the air.

She flew beautifully when she had got a good start. She skimmed along over the tree tops until she saw an open place in the middle of the wood, where the trees and the brush wood had been cleared. Jemima allighted rather heavily and began to waddle about in search of a convenient dry nesting place. She rather fancy to tree stump among some tall fox gloves.

But seated upon the stump she was startled to find an elegantly dressed Jemima reading a newspaper. He had black prick ears and sandy coloured whiskers. "Quack!" said Jemima Paddleduck with her head and her bonnet on one side. "Quack!"

Jenteman raised his eyes above his newspaper and looked curiously at Jemima. "Madam? Have you lost your way?" said he. He had a long bushy tail which he was sitting upon as the stump was somewhat damp.

Jemima thought in mighty civil-enhancing. She explained that she had not lost a way, but that she was trying to find a convenient dry nesting place. "Ah, is that so? Indeed," said the Jenteman with sandy whiskers looking curiously at Jemima.

He folded up the newspaper and put it in his coat-tail pocket. Jemima complained of the supriflerous hen. "Indeed, how interesting. I wish I could meet with that fowl.

I would teach it to mind its own business." "But, as to a nest, there is no difficulty. I have a sack full of feathers in my woodshed. No, my dear Madame.

You will be in nobody's way. You may sit there as long as you like," said the bushy, long tailed Jenteman. He led the way to a very retired, dismal-looking house amongst the fox gloves. It was built of faggots and turf, and there were two broken pales, one on top of another, by way of a chimney.

This is my summer residence. Would you not find my earth? My winter house so convenient," said the hospitable Jenteman. There was a tumbled-down shed at the back of the house, made of old soap boxes.

The Jenteman opened the door and showed Jemimer in. The shed was almost quite full of feathers. It was almost suffocating, but it was very comfortable and very soft. Jemimer puddled up, was rather surprised to find such quantity of feathers, but it was very comfortable, and she made a nest without any trouble at all.

When she came out, the sandy-wisket Jenteman was sitting on a log reading the newspaper. At least he had it spread out, but he was looking over the top of it. He was so polite that he seemed almost sorry to let Jemimer go home for the night. He did promise to take great care of her nest until she came back again the next day.

He said he loved eggs and ducklings. He would be proud to see a fine nestful in the woodshed. Jemimer puddled up, came every afternoon. She laid nine eggs in the nest.

They were greeny white and very large. The Foxy Jenteman admired them immensely. He used to turn them over and count them when Jemimer was not there. Last, Jemimer told him that she intended to begin to sit for next day, and I will bring a bag of corn with me so that I'd never need my nest until the eggs are hatched.

They might catch cold, said the conscientious Jemimer. Madam, I beg you not to trouble yourself with a bag. I will provide oats. Before you commence your tedious sitting, I intend to give you a treat.

Let us have a dinner party all to ourselves. May I ask you to bring up some herbs from the farm garden to make a savoury omelette, sage and thyme and mint and two onions, and some parsley. I will provide lard for the stuff, lard for the omelette, said the hospitable Jemimer with the sandy whiskers. Jemimer puddled up, was a simpleton, not even the mention of sage and onion made her suspicious.

She went around the farm garden nibbling off snippets of all the different sorts of herbs that are used for stuffing roast duck, and she waddled into the kitchen and got two onions out of the basket. The collie dog kept meTER coming out. What are you doing with those onions? Where do you go every afternoon by yourself?

Jemimer puddled up. Jemimer was rather in awe of the collie. She told him the whole story. The collie listened, with his wise head on one side.

He grinned when she described the polite gentleman with sandy whiskers. He asked several questions about the wood and about the exact position of the house and shed. Then he went out and he trotted down the village. He went to look for two fox-hound puppies who were out at walk with the butcher.

Jemimer puddled up. Went up the cart road for the last time, on a sunny afternoon. He was rather burdened with bunches of herbs and two onions in a bag. She flew over the wood and a lighted opposite the house on the bushy long tailed gentleman.

He was sitting on a log. He sniffed the air and kept glancing and easily around the wood. When Jemimer a lighted, he quite jumped. Come into the house as soon as you have looked at your eggs.

With me the herbs for the omelette, be sharp. He was rather abrupt. Jemimer puddled her, could never heard him speak like that. She felt surprised and uncomfortable.

While she was inside, she heard pattering feet around the back of the shed. Someone with a black nose sniffed at the bottom of the door and then locked it. Jemimer came much alarmed. A moment afterwards, there was the most awful noises, barking, bang, growls and howls, squealings and groans.

And nothing more was ever seen of that foxy, whisked gentleman. Presently, kept open the door of the shed and let out Jemimer puddled her. Unfortunately, the puppies rushed in and gubbled up all the eggs before he could stop them. He had a bite on his ear and both the puppies were limping.

Jemimer puddled her, was escorted home and tears on account of those eggs. She laid some more in June and she was permitted to keep them herself, but only four of them hatched. Jemimer puddled her, said that it was because of her nerves, but she had always been a bad this is it.