There was a little bird, who couldn't
sing a song. He would squawk and cackle and try his best to greet the
coming dawn. He could never join the chorus, or the majesty of his
flock. They'd line the trees each morning, as he'd hide down by the
river, and longingly he'd watch. As the years grew on he lost all
trace of want and jealousy. He'd just sit and enjoy the music, and
contented he would be.
He never gave up hope though, that one
day he'd find his song. Sometimes he would practice, and practice all
night long. The other birds would feel pity as they heard his broken
call, coming from the riverside after darkness would fall.
One morning a group of young birds,
came and rested down by him, alighting over the river on their way to
sing. Suddenly a gust of wind caused the branch to sway, the weight
of all the birds must have been too high that day. As he watched the
branch did crack and in the water fell, panic soon gripped him as
birds do not swim well.
He opened up his beak and let out a
mighty call, it was broken and it was out of tune, but it was
recognised by all. The other birds all heard it and were alerted
straight away, for the bird by the river was never heard at this time
of day. Diving down like well practised pilots, over the water they
could skim. They lifted out the young birds and laid them down next
to him.
As those young birds grew to adults,
a story they would tell, of how their lives were saved by a bird who
never sang well. From that day he took pride of place up on the wing.
And any time he wanted, for him they all would sing.
