Song of Robin

It was the first day of Spring in the aviary kingdom. All of the birds had just returned from their winter down south. A few were practicing their first songs of the season. One group in particular was made up of an assortment of young adult birds; it was their first Spring season in their lifetimes, and a memorable day, indeed.

Choir practice was starting for the afternoon: and the Lark was leading the chorus with a vibrant melody—up and down the scale he merrily sang. A couple of Sparrows were twittering in a rhythm that blended with the Lark. A low cooing of the Dove provided the lower alto range and a Starling completed the harmony. A Woodpecker in the distance contributed a steady syncopated beat.

A newcomer to the choir practice, a Robin, made an appearance and tried to pick-up the melody in the middle of a stanza.

“Twitter, TWWEEET! PPLLllrpt! OOOOOOoooooLoo!” he hesitantly began.

Silence. One could have heard a feather drop.

Frustrated, the Robin opened his beak again.

“CcHheep! I want tweet tweet to be-twitter friends with chirp chirp chirp you guys!” he squawked.

The regular members of the choir looked at one another, cocking their heads in puzzlement, or shaking their heads. They looked at Robin in silence, waiting for some more lyrics from him.

“HHhhMMMMmmmm-----aaAAhhHHHHLOOOOO,” he melodically sang.

The others picked up where they left off, seeing that the Robin was going to fit in after all.

“Ccheep! Chheepppp! cAW, caaaWWW! Hello? I'm talking to you, chirp chirp… understand?” Robin tried once again.

The Lark impatiently flew to Robin’s branch and gave him a shove. Robin, of course, didn’t fall but flew to a thicket of trees where he pondered the interaction with the other birds.

An old Owl joined Robin on the branch.

“Did you meet the others?” the Owl clearly asked.

Robin looked at the Owl in surprise. He has understood everything that the older bird had spoken.

“Cheep, cheep, cheep! You talk, too??!!!!” spoke Robin, very excitedly.

“Whhoooo, wwhhoooo! Who do you mean, me?” the Owl mockingly sang his reply.

Robin hopped on one foot, then the other; he was so excited he could hardly contain himself.

The Owl spoke seriously, no teasing in his voice.

“There are a few of us who can sing and talk. But some of us can only talk nowadays. The other birds won’t even fly with those who can’t sing a note. You know…. ‘birds of a feather…’.”

Robin reflected on this new bit of information.

“But, where did you learn to talk?” he asked.

“I didn’t learn to at all!” said the Owl in awe. The White Falcon from the mountaintop said that I would carry a message to other birds who would listen,” he knowingly whispered.

“I have never completely understood what it meant, but I talk until my throat is hoarse,” Owl explained.

“But to whom do you talk?” asked the Robin.

“To all birds who are not good singers; they don’t fit in with the choir,” was the answer.

“But, why do you do this?” asked Robin.

“Because they need me to, and the White Falcon takes care of me from the attacks of the other birds,” explained the Owl, with a lot of patience and care. “Come on, and follow me to the others like us,” invited the Owl.

After half an hour of flying, the two birds entered a wooded area where there was a greatly varied assortment of somewhat ragged birds, some with sparse feathers, and some that couldn’t fly well at all. But, they had something in common, and Robin felt a kinship to them, not fully understanding why. He drew closer.

Several of the birds were enjoying a fresh find of worms and small fish, probably minnows. Robin realized how famished he was, and started dangerously teetering on his two spindly legs. Two bird from the group of those feasting rushed to his side, and began stuffing worms down Robin’s throat; even a crow came up to stroke Robin’s neck with a shiny black wing.

Robin cowered and shook under the crow’s stroking, not ever knowing a crow to be so kind and gentle.

“I want to go back to the others,” Robin spoke to the wise old Owl.

“Very well! But first, do you know why you need to return?” queried the Owl.

“Singing with the other birds is what I’m supposed to be doing,” Robin patiently explained.

“Says wwwHhhooooooommmmm?” wailed the old Owl

“Come back,” implored the other assorted birds, “and you will keep coming back.”

***************

Robin tried his best to fit in with the other musical birds, but he quickly found that it would be a very difficult task.

It was a lovely sight to the bird lover. Three of each kind of bird lined up on the swaying branches of the sycamore tree. The melody was haunting, luring, weaving through the air in the meadow.

But Robin has been practicing all week long, until his throat was hoarse. An awful sound emitted from his throat.

“SSKrrppzzpft! AaaaqkqkckTT! Ffwweerpt!!!!!” he obnoxiously joined in the refrain.

“Shut u, Robin. You’re off-key! You have not studied your music!!” the Lark threatened.

“You snobbish bunch of birds!” lashed out Robin. “Who do you think you are?”

Before he knew what hit him, the others were on him in a flutter, pecking at him, and plucking at his feathers. “We don’t want you near us, Robin. Go learn some manners!”

The wise old Owl appeared from nowhere.

“Come, Robin,” he quietly said, “you have not earned your place here.” He went on, “Though I don’t know what you need to sing for, when you have the talents for so much more,” he said as he beckoned for Robin to follow him.

So once more, Robin found himself in the company of the not-so-musical, fairly bedraggled birds, who talked. Only in his lack of speaking daily, he had forgotten how to. And singing was out of the question, too.

Robin only kept the company of the wise Owl, who was not a threat to him, as he tried to figure out just where he belonged.

Days passed.

“It’s time to go see the Great White Falcon,” the Owl said to a complacent Robin.

“But why?” Robin asked.

“WwwwwwHhHhHhoooooooooo wants to know?” was the reply from the Owl.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The flight up the mountainside was lengthy and tiring. As Owl and Robin flew to higher altitudes, the air got thinner and Owl’s wings were laboring to keep him airborne.

“I cannot go any further, Robin,” said Owl, as he coasted to a moss-covered ledge of rock. “I’m afraid you must finish the flight by yourself.”

“But I do not know the way!” a panicked Robin exclaimed, terrified of being left alone. Owl was sad. He know his work with Robin was done, nevertheless. But Robin was thinking rapidly to cajole Owl into helping him out just one more time.

Owl, with a weakened voice, said with love and patience. “Use your head, your strength, and your reasoning—and you will reach the Great White Falcon!!! Your heart will be your Guide.” And those were the last words that Owl imparted to Robin.

For hours Robin tried to retrace his flight back to his origins, only to stay in the fog of the mountainside. Then he remembered Owl telling him, ‘you know you are ascending if the air keeps getting thinner and thinners, and you find it hard to breathe!’ And this was true. ‘And follow the sun….and your heart.’

But with Hope and Intrigue of the power of the White Falcon, Robin did not mind the difficulty he was having breathing the air. The feeling of breathlessness was making him giddy with anticipation.

At last there was no more ascending. Robin had reached the ceiling of the sky. And there was not White Falcon to be found. But in looking around himself, he saw others who were sitting around conversing, not singing, as was the custom of other birds. They made Robin feel welcome. They showed him where the best ponds for fish were; and where a lot of them chose to build their nests. How and where they had learned these things, Robin did not know.

For many days, Robin was the only newcomer to the group. He was unable to pass on what he had learned from the other birds to anyone. Until one sunny day.

A lone Sparrow cane hobbling up the mountain, dazed from days of no food, water or sleep. And he was mumbling something.

“Great White Falcon, why have you forsaken me? Why have you not shown yourself to me? I have searched for so long?” moaned the Sparrow. “And I keep getting so chilly at this high altitude. Will I ever find the top of the mountain? Will I ever get warm?” sorrowfully chirped the despondent Sparrow.

Robin remarked, “Sparrow, I have come to find the Great White Falcon myself many days ago, and have not seen one glimpse of him. But,” added Robin, “I am so glad to see you here. We can talk if you’d like.”

As Robin and Sparrow talked and shared so many ambitions, hopes and fears of being in this new land together, the others began moving off to their roosts for the night. The two newcomers chattered into the night, each giving and receiving comfort from the other.

A Blue jay sleepily flew into the clearing and noticed the two birds talking fervently. His eyes grew large with disbelief. Behind the Robin and the Sparrow was a large white light radiating brightly. Peering closely, the Blue jay noticed an unclear, then not-so-vague image of a bird, rising slowly about the two, to suspend and glow so very high in the sky, yet still unnoticed by the pair.

It was a Falcon. Yes, it was surely to be the Great White Falcon, as the Owl had promised….its outstretched wings providing warmth to the two lone birds in the chill of the night.

This story was dedicated to R. Striby. Her voice will be heard….in God’s Time.

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