In the quiet of the morning, the world was full of wonders. Birds flew, trees swayed, and the sun peeked through the clouds. A hawk, strong and sharp-eyed, was out searching for food. His wings cut through the air as he flew, looking for something to catch. As he flew, he spotted something on the ground. A duck, sitting so still in the grass. The hawk’s eyes narrowed.
He landed nearby, amazed by how calm and peaceful the duck seemed. The duck didn’t even look up. It was as if the hawk didn’t exist. The hawk felt a rush of surprise. Didn’t the duck know how powerful he was? Didn’t it understand that he was the one who hunted, the one who ruled the skies? He had never been ignored like this before.
The hawk moved closer, his sharp claws ready. But the duck stayed still, its eyes closed, its feathers soft in the morning light. The hawk felt frustrated. Didn’t the duck know fear? Didn’t it feel his presence? He tried again, this time circling the duck, hoping that maybe the bird would sense him now. He even nudged the duck with his beak, but nothing happened.
The hawk looked around, confused. Something was strange. He tried harder, poking and prodding at the duck, but it stayed still. After a while, the hawk gave up. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he knew it was time to move on. With one last look, he spread his wings and took off into the sky, feeling a little foolish but also curious about what he had just encountered.
The hawk would remember this day. He wouldn’t forget the strange duck, sitting so peacefully, not afraid at all. And though it wasn’t the fight he expected, it was a day he would never forget.
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