Nina was a small duck who lived in an old mill. Her grandmother had taught her how to run a household: you grow carrots, you keep things tidy, you patch the cracks with moss and clay. So Nina did just that. Her life was quiet and solitary, following her grandmother's wisdom.
On fine days, she walked to the pond to skip stones and chat with her two friends — the old carp, and Aunt Lisa, a toad who loved polka-dot dresses.
One afternoon, the carp asked: "Are you happy, Nina?"
Nina blinked. "The carrots came up beautifully," she said.
"That's not what I asked," the carp insisted. "Happiness is when something rings inside you like a little bell and you want to fly."
"Leave her alone, you old oddball," Aunt Lisa interrupted, adjusting her spotted frock. "You'd better try to beat me at stones for once."
But that night, something stirred in Nina's chest. The carp's words echoed, and she could not sleep.

In the morning, her carrot patch was destroyed. Roots scattered, leaves trampled. And from beneath a wild rose bush came dramatic moans and lamentations.
"Alas! Woe is me! My final hour has come!"
A young hare lay there, clutching his stomach, writhing with theatrical agony.
"You ate my carrots," Nina said flatly.
"Only because I was dying of hunger! And now I am dying of carrots! The end is near!"
"Serves you right," Nina said, and went back to sweeping the mill.
But the moaning continued — loud, pitiful, and increasingly overdone. Nina rolled her eyes. Then she sighed, gathered healing herbs, and brewed a tea.
When she brought it to him, he drank it with great ceremony.
"You have saved me from the grave!" he announced. "I am forever in your debt. Say, you wouldn't happen to have any more carrots? Death throes are terribly exhausting, you know."
Nina stared at him.
The hare sat up, suddenly full of energy. "Allow me to introduce myself. Kotik — Sharp Eye, if you prefer. I was hot on the trail of a celery theft at Mrs. Acorn's when darkness fell. I lost the path, wandered all night, and by morning I was weak, starving, and entirely without dignity."
Nina said nothing. She fetched a few young carrots and handed them over.
"Go home," she said. "While the sun is high and you can see the trail."
Kotik bowed dramatically and bounded off.

Nina looked at her ruined garden. She sighed, kicked a carrot top, and muttered something about arrogant hares with ridiculous nicknames.

But word spreads quickly in the forest. The little duck had healed Kotik with herbs, and soon animals began coming to her mill with their troubles. Nina did not send anyone away.
In gratitude, they helped her. The beaver built a new roof. The thrush brought seeds of the sweetest carrot. The mole weeded her garden.
Soon the mill became a place where anyone could come for care. Nina taught others what her grandmother had taught her about herbs and healing.

Her life was no longer quiet. But something had changed inside her. A strange new feeling gave her strength, and she was not tired.
That summer, white bindweed bloomed around the mill for the first time. In the mornings, dew gathered in the flowers, and when the wind blew, they rang like tiny bells.
And one morning, Nina spread her wings and flew across the lake. She had never flown that far before.
She landed on the other side, looked back at her mill, took a deep breath of the fresh, sweet air, and thought: So this is happiness.

Tilda Publishing

What Happiness Is