I will tell you a story that is indeed interesting to me because it concerns me.
It was recently when I was just walking through the winding streets of night-time Prague, watching various buildings, admiring painters, sculptors, architects and builders. And then a duck's cackle interrupted my reverie. Imagine that. You are among the houses, the river Vltava is a walk away from you for some time, and there is no brush or shrubbery anywhere for the frightened creatures to hide.
It caught my attention so much because it was walking along the pavement as I was. "What are you doing here, ducks?" I ask them. "Quack," comes the curt reply.
Then I have not had much conversation with them. At least I am looking at them, for I had hoped that my eyes would tell me something. And I have noticed that the female duck is limping, and that is probably why they are staying here in the streets, because they are tired of finding their way home.
It is easy for us to get on a tram to take us to the front of the house. If not, we often walk the distance, because we know the streets. They're mostly straight. But what about the ducks? They can wander in them until the end of their days, because they find them endless and meaningless. Somewhere by the water they'd take off, see where they were, to find their way to their comrades, but here the houses are too tall to do anything like that.
If they're stuck here, then I wonder how they got here. They probably wanted to see some of the sights, like me, but they had no idea of time, so they forgot to go back, and now no one could give them any advice, because they didn't know their language.
It wouldn't be me to just get away with it, and go on my own way. No. I unrolled the map I carry when I wandered, laid it on the tiles, and pointed my finger at the winged creatures where we were. They came closer to me, so that they could see the finger running over the map. That was me showing them how to get to the water. The duck examined the map in detail, and the movements of my fingers along it. The duck was tired of falling asleep standing up.
And then it happened. Both of them suddenly spread their wings and flew off in the direction I pointed. I watched them go, hoping they would go where they wished. Then I entered the map, answered a lot of questions from shy observers, and continued my tour of the city. I forgot the whole event quite well in a moment.
It was late in the evening, the last of May, when I reached the Vltava. It's such a giant boulevard, I thought. A very wide street, where there are a huge number of animals that we can't even guess at. And then I thought of the ducks. I imagined myself wandering in the water, unable to find my way home, for I don't know the first thing about those parts.
In my dreaming I heard the familiar sound quack. The sun had set, I could hardly see the road, but when our eyes are useless we still have our hearing. So I followed the sounds.
I pushed through the branches of the trees and stood in front of a flock of ducks. The lamplight reflected off the water, so I could see them a little. I thought my acquaintances were already among them.
"Hello. So, how was your journey?" I asked, joking, and laughed. "Quack," came the reply.
I wish I could speak the language of animals, I thought. How much easier it would all be. I would know what they needed, what was bothering them, so it would be much easier to help them. What's more, we would have many more friends. Well, imagine if you had a fox or a bear for friends. You could talk to your dog, a cat, and find out their needs without having to stare at them for a long time.
As in life, good begets good. But beware. It is done with good intentions, but in the end, good begets evil.
It was not the duck or the duck that answered my wish, but Pegasus, the winged horse that was watching me from the sky at that moment. He said to himself, "He helped those who needed help. Now he would have wished for something. What would I not have helped him?"
Only a star was falling, and I wished I could understand animals.
The water sparkled, the trees bent their branches in the wind, the landscape fell asleep with its inhabitants.
"Good night," came a chorus as the wind died.
"Good night," came a chorus.
"Good night," came a voice from a branch above me.
By then I was on my feet and frightened. "Who's there?" I asked nervously, not having the slightest idea.
"Who's there?" came a voice from above.
"Why are you repeating me?" I wondered if it was the children who were not asleep but climbing the trees.
"I'm not repeating. I'm just asking the same question," said a high voice.
"Oh. I see. But I asked first," I thought, to avoid answering.
"Then I won't tell you anything. I know who you are anyway. Sometimes you come here and I look at you."
"Are you following me?" I asked. "And why did you speak only today?"
"I'm not. You're following me. I live here. And I talk every day. You've never answered me. I've asked you several times not to be loud this evening."
"What?" I couldn't understand it at all. "But this is the first time I've heard you," I didn't lie.
"You know what? I want to sleep now, so please be quiet," said the tree-dweller.
As I didn't understand anything, I preferred to be quiet. Still, I couldn't help it, and after a moment's thought, after looking up into the treetop, I began to climb up on it noiselessly.
Suddenly a bird flew out of it and began to shout, "Help! Thief! Murderer! Help!"
I jumped down from the tree in fear. I had no idea that I was talking to the blackbird all the time. The blackbird, meanwhile, returned to its nest and began to squeak at me, "Go away. I'm afraid of you. Let me sleep at last, human."
I didn't wait long and, terrified, I got up and walked quickly away from there. It seemed like a dream. Perhaps I'm dreaming, I calmed myself down.
But I wasn't. Because as soon as I got back out into the streets, dogs began to talk to me while I was walking. "Hey, watch out," said the first. "Look, look," said the second. "Be afraid!" shouted the third dangerous dog on a leash. I just looked at them with a look of wonder on my face and quickened my pace. I was looking forward to getting home. I thought I had some kind of fever to sleep off.
As soon as I got home, I jumped into bed. I was falling asleep with a heavy head, so I kept fidgeting in bed. To make matters worse, early in the morning, about 4:30, I was awakened by a call from outside: 'Get up! Good morning!' I quickly closed the window so I wouldn't have to hear it. It was terribly hot in my room, but it was better than having someone shout at me to get up when I wasn't supposed to get up for two hours.
I'd had a headache all morning. I was all broken up from lack of sleep and couldn't keep my attention that well. The cat also jumped on me and demanded food. Luckily, it didn't talk, so I believed the dream was over.
'Here,' I said as I put the granules in her bowl. 'It's about time,' she said.
So I hoped it was all over, but as soon as the cat spoke to me, I knew it wasn't just a dream. I knew I could talk to animals.
I didn't wait, and soon after went to see a friend who was essential in such emergencies. I told him everything in detail. "Just don't tell anyone else," he said, "they'll still use you to translate what their pets say." I laughed, though the thought was really frightening. Then he went on, "To cancel a wish, you have to go to the same place and wish the opposite. That's all I can tell you."
I thanked him very much and decided to keep the gift for a few more days. I went out into the woods and groves, hoping to gather inspiration for further writing. I really did. But you can read about that in another book, the one called 'Manimal'. I was so tired of wandering that soon after I went to a place where I hoped to lose my powers.
The sun was bright, but the same tall buildings as then prevented the rays from penetrating the streets. I walked quickly to avoid conversations with the dogs and pigeons, who kept asking me if I had anything to eat, until at last I came to a place where I met the ducks. They were there again that day. It didn't seem to me that they went to see the sights every day. I watched them from a distance and wondered when I saw a male duck, not her partner, limping.
Instead of a quack, I heard: "Have mercy on us. Give us something to eat."
I walked up to them and said: "Are you lost? Again?"
They both stopped and looked at each other, not knowing much to say. At last the duck said: "Yes. Will you show us the way back again?"
"I'd love to. I'm just surprised that it's not you who's limping today, but your husband. What an odd pair you make."
"You know that. We have a hazardous profession where we get hurt all the time," I knew he was lying, because had you ever seen a duck work? I was annoyed.
"Now, if you don't fake your injuries, then others don't have to worry about you. It made me wish I could understand you, even though it's a terrible nuisance."
"That's your problem. We'll be going now," the female duck replied, and they moved away to avoid me.
Though I'm usually calm, this time I lost my temper and leaped for the duck, almost catching it. They both retreated, shouting loudly, but I could no longer understand them. My gift was taken away from me by Pegasus, who found that I could not be kind to animals.
I'll certainly weigh my words next time. Besides, it taught me that not everything is, at first glance, what it seems to be. I played the guitar that night, and I was very glad I didn't know what it was saying. Sometimes it's really better not to assign meaning to any sound.