I’m sure you’ve heard of the smartest duck in all the Duckingtons (and probably in all the world), Mr. Quackers. If you haven’t, then you’re about to.

Mr. Quackers and the Mountain of Fire

Mr. Quackers woke up one morning at his place in South Duckington and noticed that there was a bit of moss stuck to one of his tail feathers.

He thought nothing of it.

The next day he noticed that the moss speck appeared to be a teensy bit larger. Had it spread a little?

He still thought nothing of it. What’s a little moss on a duck? he thought. Normal, that’s what.

The next day he saw that it had spread a little more. He was sure of it.

He went for a swim and figured it would rinse off.

It didn’t.

He decided to give his tail a good, thorough washing with soap and warm water, hoping that would get rid of the moss.

It didn’t.

Mr. Quackers began to think that he might have a problem.

He decided to go to the only person he could think of who seemed to know all about mysterious things—like mosses that wouldn’t go away and kept spreading. It happened to be someone the ducks usually avoided because she loved to grill and eat ducks: the Sand Witch.

He knew that she might just try to eat him without even listening to him, but he had to try.

Mr. Quackers went to the Sand Witch’s house and boldly knocked on her door. He immediately heard the angry voice of the Sand Witch from inside asking who dared to disturb her.

He answered that he was Mr. Quackers, a duck of no particular importance from South Duckington, and asked if he might speak to her about a possible…matter of magical interest.

This aroused the Sand Witch’s curiosity.

She thought, If this duck is bothering me over nothing, I’ll fire up my grill and have him for lunch. But perhaps he really does have something of magical interest to show me or tell me—and I’m always interested in things of magical interest!

So, after Mr. Quackers had waited on his side of the door for several tense moments, she opened the door and agreed to speak to him.

Mr. Quackers showed her the spot of moss on his tail and explained how it had been growing for at least three days. He told her that nothing he had tried had been able to clean it off.

She recognized the problem immediately and told him that the news was not at all good for him. She said that the moss on his tail-feathers was the kind of moss that grows every day until it becomes a blob of moss big enough to eat you. Then it eats you. Then it keeps getting bigger and bigger until it’s able to move around on its own. Then it goes to find its father, the Moss Monster.

Mr. Quackers didn’t like the sound of any of that.

“That sounds terrible,” he said. “How can I get rid of it before all those bad things happen?”

“You can’t,” she answered, shaking her head with a very creepy smile for some reason. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to step out back and fire up my grill.”

“Why do you need to do that?” Quackers asked. “Are you planning a cookout?”

“I am now…” the witch said with an even creepier smile.

“Hold on,” Mr. Q said. “I heard that you were supposed to be the smartest, most powerful witch in the world—but you don’t even know how to solve a little moss problem? You have to know of something that might help me.”

“Oh, I am the most powerful witch in the world, and I do know what would get rid of that moss for you, but there’s no point in telling you. It’s impossible. No duck has ever tried it and survived.”

“I’m no ordinary duck,” Mr. Quackers said bravely. “Tell me what it is. I can do it.”

The Sand Witch sighed and said, “The only way to get rid of that moss speck is to go to the Mountain of Fire and dip your tail feathers into the lava there, searing off the tips of any feathers that have the moss. Ordinary fire or lava won’t do; it must be lava from the Mountain of Fire.”

“That doesn’t sound too impossible,” Mr. Quackers said.

“Other ducks have tried it, but none have ever managed it. They start roasting as soon as they get close to the burning lava, and they end up falling in and being cooked. Sadly, they are cooked in a way that I can’t enjoy. If you want to be cooked, I have a much quicker and easier option for you. Please…follow me into my back garden.”

“No thanks. I’ll take my chances with the volcano.”

When she heard Mr. Quackers use the word ‘volcano’, the Sand Witch looked at him very strangely. She had never met a duck who was smart enough to know that the Mountain of Fire was actually something called a ‘volcano’.

She began to wonder if a duck as smart as this duck might someday be dangerous to her.

“Fine,” she said grumpily. “Go cook yourself. I’m done answering duck questions. Be gone. And be warned: If you ever come here again I will grill you and eat you!”

Mr. Quackers flew off as fast as he could, feeling lucky that he had not only survived his encounter with the Sand Witch, but had also learned how to get rid of his moss problem.

As he flew towards the Mountain of Fire, he said to himself, “You’re a clever, clever duck. Other ducks may have failed, but this should be easy for you!”

And it was pretty easy…at first.

Mr. Quackers arrived at the top of the Mountain of Fire and approached the pool of glowing, bubbling, orange lava very carefully, backing up to it tail-first.

He dipped the tip of his tail-feather with the moss on it into the lava. The sides of the feather singed, but the moss-spot was still there.

He dipped it in again—a little deeper this time. By now he was really feeling the heat. He felt like his backside was being roasted (probably because that was exactly what was happening).

After the second dip the moss spot was still there. Mr. Quackers suddenly remembered that magic things almost always happen in threes. Maybe that was why the other ducks had failed! He quickly dipped his tail-feather into the burning lava a third time. This time it looked like the moss was gone!

Mr. Quackers didn’t wait around to double-check it. He knew he’d be cooked if he stayed there even three seconds longer! He flew up and away from the scorching heat of the lava as fast as he could and headed back towards home.

As he flew, he looked back at his tail and saw that the moss was indeed gone! He quacked with joy as he flew, feeling the cool wind whipping around his half-roasted bottom. His tail would probably look funny for a while, but…

That’s when Mr. Quackers realized that he was wobbling. The clouds above him and the ground below him were jiggling around in some very strange ways. Something about his flying was not right. He seemed to be flying clumsily, like a young duckling who had just learned to do it. He stopped focusing on his tail and tried to focus on his flying.

He suddenly realized what must have happened to at least some of the ducks who had visited the Mountain of Fire to get rid of moss spots. Flying with singed and misshapen tail feathers was unexpectedly difficult. They had probably flown happily away from the high mountain not realizing that their flying was not quite right anymore. By the time they figured out what was wrong, they had probably plummeted to their doom.

The more he tried to control his flying and fly straight, the more he flew in crazier and crazier spirals towards the ground. Faster and faster Mr. Quackers could see the ground getting closer and closer. Soon, he’d be just a yellow, duck-shaped pancake on the outskirts of East Duckington.

But then he had an idea! If trying to fly straight with a damaged set of tail feathers made you fly crazily, what would happen if he tried to fly crazily and randomly?

He tried it, and believe it or not, he was immediately flying straight again! He didn’t trust this odd method of flying for long, though. He did it just long enough to get him safely down to the ground.

He landed on the outskirts of East Duckington, stopped at the Grab-n-Go there for a pack of gum, and then began the long waddle home.

He wasn’t able to fly right, but at least the moss was gone. He made it home safely after a very long walk, and took a very long nap after all of the day’s excitement.

After a few weeks his tail-feathers grew back and he was back to his normal self.

But this adventure had made him curious about something. A speck of moss that grows big enough to eat you sounded pretty scary, but the Sand Witch had also mentioned what would happen after that: The moss glob would go off in search of its father, the Moss Monster.

There was a Moss Monster?!