The Flight of the Golden Bird (3 page)

The school was closing for the summer session once more. And the schoolmaster called in all the children together.

He said, “Children, tomorrow is the start of your summer holidays and you will be gone now from school for many weeks. Whilst you are gone I don’t want you to write any essays for me, which you usually do. I just want you to have a good time and enjoy yourselves and keep out of trouble.”

So, putting his hand under his desk he took out a silver angel, about six inches high, solid silver. And he placed it on his desk.

He said, “Do you see this, children? What is it?”

And the children gathered round. They said, “Yes, Master, we see it. It is a beautiful angel.”

“Yes,” he said, “it’s a beautiful silver angel. Now, I am going to give this angel to one of you when you come back after your holidays. But, I am only giving it to the child who brings me the brightest thing that he can find. The brightest thing you can find – anything you want to bring as long as it is bright and clear.” He put the angel back under his desk.

So, time for school was up and the children all went away – all went home.

And all the time of the holidays they searched for bright, clear things. Some collected pieces of glass and pieces of shiny stone; all pieces of clear metal that they could find, saved them up, as much as they could find.

But naturally days have got a way of slipping in, and soon it was time to start off for school once more. The summer holidays
finished and all the children gathered next morning, a Monday morning.

One by one they trooped into school and they sat down in their seats. The master called out all their names one by one. They answered their names.

“Now, children,” he said, “as I promised you when you went on holiday...” He put his hand under his desk. He got the silver angel and put it on top of his desk.

The children all came one by one and placed the shiny bright things that they had fetched with them on the table. The schoolmaster looked them over: there were pieces of glass, shiny pieces of tin, old coins polished bright. Everything they had found was placed on the table until they had a nice wee heap.

“But – wait a minute –” he said, “there is somebody missing. I forgot… Children, where is little Hugh?”

“Oh,” they said, “Sir, little Hugh has not come today.”

“Well, if he doesn’t come,” said the schoolmaster, “that is something new, because Hugh never misses school.” He was the youngest pupil, but he had never missed school since he started. So the master said, “We will just have to carry on without him.”

Then, as the master made up his mind to pick out the shiniest thing, who should trudge into school but little Hugh! He walked up to the schoolmaster’s desk.

“Well, Hugh,” he said, “you are late for school.”

“Yes, Master,” he said, “I am late for school.”

And the schoolmaster said, “Have you brought something shiny, clear and bright with you as I asked you to?”

“Yes, Master,” he said. “I tried hard all during my holidays to find something shiny and bright, but I couldn’t find anything.” And he had his hand under the front of his jacket.

The schoolmaster said, “What is that you’ve got, Hugh, in there?”

And he said, “Sir, it is a pigeon. I found it on the road, Sir, and
I think it is sick and I think, Sir – it is dying. It is very sick.” He took the pigeon out and held it in front of him.

The schoolmaster looked and he saw that the pigeon really was sick, nearly dead. And just like that – as Hugh held it in his arms – the pigeon dropped its head and died, right in Hugh’s arms.

A big tear rolled down his cheek and fell right on top of the schoolmaster’s desk. The schoolmaster looked at the tear and he looked at wee Hugh who was nearly crying.

“I know you have all brought beautiful, shiny things with youse today,” said the schoolmaster to the children. “Some of youse have brought coins, some of you have brought shiny pieces of glass and stone. But – I am going to give little Hugh the angel.”

The children were all quiet.

“Because, children,” he said, “Hugh has brought something more clear and more precious than anything to the school today. He has brought a pigeon – but he has also put on my desk the brightest and shiniest thing of all.”

And the children wondered what it was – because they never saw anything.

“Children,” he said, “little Hugh has put on my desk
a tear of pity.
And there is nothing as bright, children, as a tear of pity for someone else’s woes – even although it is only a pigeon. I’m going to give little Hugh the angel.”

And all the children said, “Yes, Sir, give Hugh the angel,” and Hugh was nearly crying, “because we know what you mean.”

Hugh got the angel for his tear of pity, and that is the end of my story.

A long time ago in a faraway country there once lived a merchant. And this merchant was very rich. He had all the riches his heart desired. He had a large mansion house, and on his land he had a small village. To all the people who lived there he gave work, and this merchant loved his people. He was a trader. Twice a year he would travel into the East with a cavalcade of donkeys and camels laden with all the things he wanted to sell. There were silks, there were carpets, herbs and spices and wines. And he would be gone for many weeks into the East trading. But this merchant had something more special than all his wealth. For in a little room in his great mansion-house he had a large golden cage. In this golden cage he kept a little golden bird.

Now the merchant loved this golden bird like nothing on earth. He loved it more than all his wealth and all his riches. And the reason was this little golden bird could talk to the merchant. You see, every evening after the meal was over he would pull up a little stool before the cage, and he would talk to the golden bird. The golden bird would tell him many wonderful stories, many places it had been before it was captured and put in the cage.

So one evening the merchant came in again, pulled up his stool before the cage and said, “Well, my little friend, the time has come. Tomorrow I must leave you again, because I must go on another journey.”

The little bird swinging on the golden perch said, “But, Master, why must you always go off on these journeys? You
see, I get so lonely when you leave me – all alone with no one to talk to.”

And the merchant said, “Don’t I leave someone with you to feed and water you while I’m gone, my little friend?”

“Yes, Master, you do. But it’s not the same. You see, I can’t talk to anyone else. And I miss you so much when you’re gone. Why must you always go on these trips? You don’t need any more wealth; you are wealthy enough.”

And the merchant said, “You see, my little friend, it is not for me. It is for the children of the village. Would you deny the children their food?”

“No, Master, of course not.”

“Well, you see, my little friend, that’s why I must make another journey. Because I take their daddies with me on my trip, I pay them money and they buy food for their children. So that’s why I must go.”

“But, Master, you have never taken me with you on any of your trips!”

“Oh, my little friend, I could never take you with me on any of my trips.”

“Why not, Master? Why can’t you take me?”

“Well, you see, I might be waylaid by robbers or bandits. And then they would steal you from me. I’d never see you again. And you’re the only golden bird in this world.”

“No, Master, that is not true. You see, there is another like me.”

“Another like you?” said the merchant. “No, my friend, there is no one like you. You are the only golden bird in this world. And I love you more than all my wealth; I will never, never set you free.”

“Then, Master, if you won’t take me with you and you won’t set me free, will you take a little message for me?”

“A message?” said the merchant. “What kind of a message?”

“Just a little message to another friend of mine far from here.”

“Another friend of yours?” said the merchant. “But there’s no one like you – you are the only one in this world.”

“No, Master, there is another like me. And if you can’t take me with you, then you must take a message from me!”

“But where shall I find this friend of yours?”

“Master, after you’ve travelled into the East and sold all your wares and sent all your bearers home to the village, then you must continue to the end of the land… where there’s no more land, only the raging sea before you. And there you will find a small forest. You must seek the highest tree you can find. And there on the lowest branch, Master, sits another like me – a dear friend of mine. And you must tell her that I’m locked in a golden cage. And I can never be freed. Will you do that for me, Master?”

“I promise you, my little friend, should I never return, I will deliver your message!”

So the next morning the merchant was gone into the East very early with all his camels and donkeys laden with all the wares he was going to sell. Taking all the men from the village he travelled on his journey. And the merchant was very lucky, for soon he had sold all his wares and paid off his bearers one by one, and sent them home with their stock to the village once again. He was left with one single donkey. And he thought to himself, “I cannot go home. I cannot return and face my little golden friend without delivering his message. So I must continue as my little friend told me.”

So he travelled on. And as you know, if you travel any part in the world long enough soon you will come to the end of the land. So the merchant travelled on for many days, for many weeks. And sure as the little bird had said there was no more land; only the raging sea lay before him. And there was a small forest.

The merchant tied up his donkey and he walked through the forest seeking the highest and thickest tree he could find. Soon
he found it. And there sitting on the lowest branch was another golden bird identical to the one he owned! The merchant stared in amazement. The little bird had told the truth – there was another golden bird. And as he stood under the branch looking at the golden bird, the golden bird looked down with beady bright eyes but said nothing.

And then the merchant said, “I have come a long way to be with you, my friend. You see, I have another like you locked up in a golden cage. And I have come to deliver a message for him, to tell you that he is locked in a golden cage. And I love him more than all my wealth and I will never set him free.”

Just as the merchant uttered these words the little golden bird fell from the branch right at his feet. He picked it up. It was dead.

“Why?” thought the merchant. “Why had you to die? Why was that message so important to you?” The merchant felt very sad.

So, as there was no grass under the tree he dug a shallow little grave with his hands. And he buried the little golden bird in the sand, covered it over with sand and said a little prayer. With sadness in his heart he took his donkey and he quietly walked away. What kind of story would he have to tell his little friend when he returned to his own home?

But as he travelled on with sadness in his heart, unknown to the merchant there was a flutter in the sand! The little bird had got up, shook the sand from its feathers and flew again back up on the branch of the tree. The merchant knew nothing of this!

He travelled on with sadness in his heart. And after many’s a weary week had passed he was home once again in his own village at his own mansion-house. And, giving his donkey to one of the bearers, he rushed into the little room, drew the curtains, pulled up the stool where sat the golden cage. And his little golden friend was swinging on the perch in the cage.

As he sat up there the little golden bird said, “Master, you
have returned. I am so pleased to see you. You have been gone a long, long while. But why do you look so sad, Master?”

“It is with sadness I have returned, with sadness in my heart, my little friend, you see!”

“Did you find my friend?”

“Of course I found your friend. And that’s why my heart is so sad. You see, after I delivered your message she fell from the tree. And she is dead! And I buried her in the sand.”

Just as soon as the merchant uttered these words the little golden bird fell from the perch to the floor of the cage. And quickly the merchant took a golden key from his pocket. He opened the cage, reached in and caught the little golden bird... it was dead!

“Why, why?” thought the merchant. “Now both of you are gone! Why was that message so important?” And he rushed to the window ledge. He pulled up the window and he placed the little golden bird on the ledge. He sat there with his head in his hands. “My little friend is gone! Why?”

And then he looked at the window, for the little golden bird had got up on the ledge. It circled round three times and the merchant stared in amazement. Then it came back to the window, well out of reach of the merchant, and landed on the ledge.

It said to the merchant, “Thank you, my Master, for delivering my message. Now I must be gone to find my friend!”

And like that the golden bird took off into the East, and the merchant watched it until it disappeared in the distance. The little golden bird was gone.

He sat there with sorrow in his heart. He knew he would never see his little golden friend again. But he knew something else. He knew that wherever his golden friend would be it would be happy, because it would be free.

According to the Bible, God created all this wonderful world that you live in today. And they said it took him six long days; on the seventh day he rested. But the truth is, on the seventh day he did not rest. Because, you see, God had made a great mistake! Now, can you imagine God making a mistake? Well, he had!

Because he had created all the great rivers, the mountains, the lakes, the valleys, the animals, the trees, the forests, and of course, all the birds; he had sent many birds to different parts of the world, some to the sea, some to the mountains, some to the cliffs, some to the forests. And then God on the seventh day leaned back and relaxed. He was going to rest. He looked at his beautiful world and saw the valleys, the rivers and the lakes; he saw the mountains, he saw the animals and then... he saw the birds. There he had made his great mistake! Because he had been in so much of a hurry to create this world, he had given some of the birds the wrong kind of beaks! He had given some of them the wrong kind of legs, and he had forgotten to give them any colour! Every single bird looked the same.

So, you see, on the seventh day God said, “I must right this before I rest.”

So then he created a large basket of beaks of all sizes. He created a large basket of legs of all kinds. And then he created many vats of all the different colours. Then he recalled his birds to come before him.

So the birds heard the call from God. And the first to arrive was a dull, old, grey dusty peacock. And he strutted before God.

He said, “Master, you have recalled me?”

And God said, “Yes, my little friend, I have. You see, when I created you in such a hurry I forgot to give you any colour. Now look around you: you will see all these beautiful vats of any colour you want; there’s a basket of legs; there’s a basket of beaks.”

The peacock said, “Master, I am quite content with my legs and my beak.”

“Well,” said God, “could you have a little colour? Choose anything you like!”

So, the peacock strutted around and he said, “Master, I’ll just have a little touch of each colour.”

And God, true to his word, he went to his vats with his brushes. He took all the different colours and painted the peacock all those beautiful colours from every vat that he had! And the peacock looked beautiful.

He said, “Thank you, Master!” And he flew off.

Then the birds came in their dozens. They came in their hundreds. The next bird to arrive was a little brown bird. He walked up to God.

And he said, “Master, you’ve called on me?”

God said, “What would you like, my little friend, what colour would you like?”

And the bird said, “Well, Master, just a little red on my breast.” What kind of bird would that be? A robin, of course! “A little red on my breast would suit me fine.” And he flew off.

Then another bird came in and he said, “Master, you have sent me to fly across the sea, and I love to be close to the waves and look like the sea; could I have the colour I want?”

What kind of bird would that be? A seagull, of course! And he was made white. “Maybe a little touch of orange on my beak,” he said, “to give me a little colour.”

And then another bird arrived. He landed in front of God and he said, “Master, you have recalled me?”

God said, “I have, my friend.”

“Well,” he said, “I love to live deep dark in the forest. And there I want to be, where no one can see me. Could I be black as the dark night?” What kind of bird would that be? A raven or a crow, of course! And God gave him all those colours.

So, they came in their dozens. And then another bird landed beside him.

And he said, “Master, you have sent me to a land of nuts. But my beak is too small. I cannot crack the nuts.

“Then, go to the basket,” said God, “and pick the largest beak you can find.” And the bird went up to the basket and picked the largest beak he could find, the largest of all! What kind of bird would that be? A toucan, of course, with the largest beak in the world!

And then the birds came in their dozens, they came in their hundreds. And God went from vat to vat and gave them the colours they wanted. He gave them the beaks they wanted and he gave them the legs they wanted. Then a large bird landed and strutted up before him.

He said, “Master, you have recalled me?”

“Of course, my little friend,” said God, “I have recalled you.”

“Master,” he said, “you have sent me to the lakes, to the rivers. I love to wade, but my bottom is always getting wet! My legs are too short.”

“Then go to the basket,” said God. “And pick the legs that suit you.” And the bird went to the basket and picked the longest legs he could find. What kind of bird would that be? A crane, of course! And God gave him a little grey colour. Off he flew. He was happy.

So, bird after bird they came in their hundreds. And soon the basket of beaks was empty. Every bird had got what they required. The basket of legs was empty. And all the vats of colours were gone. And God looked out on his beautiful world. And he saw all these beautiful valleys. He saw the rivers, he saw
the lakes, he saw the trees, the forests, the mountains and he saw the animals. He saw every bird with all their beautiful colours. And he was happy!

“Now,” he thought, “it is time to rest.” But he was just about to rest when a little grey bird landed on his knee, a tiny grey bird.

And the little bird spoke and said, “Master, I am so sorry – I came a long way when I heard you call – and I am sorry I am late!”

And God said, “My little friend, you see, you really are late.”

“Could I have a little colour, Master, like the rest of the birds?”

God said, “My little friend, I am really sorry. You see, there is nothing left. All my vats are empty. My colours are all gone. My baskets are empty. There are no beaks for you, there are no legs for you.”

And the little bird said, “Master, I am quite pleased with what I have, my legs and my beak. It’s just a little colour I need.”

And God said, “My little friend, there is no colour left. My vats are empty.”

Then the little bird said, “Master, check your brushes! Maybe there’s a teeny-weeny piece of colour left on your brushes.”

And God went from brush to brush which he had used on the birds. But all the brushes were dry! Until he came to the last teeny little brush; he picked it up and looked at it. There on the point of the last little brush was a teeny-weeny piece of golden paint. And he looked at the little brush and he looked at the tiny piece of golden paint. He looked at the little bird on his knee.

He said, “My little friend, I am really sorry. You see, you will have to remain a little grey bird till the end of time, because I have no more colours to give you. But just you open your beak, my little friend, and I will give you something more special than all the colours on all the birds of my world!”

And the little grey bird sat on God’s knee and opened its little beak. God very carefully took the tiny piece of golden paint,
and he painted the throat of the little grey bird. He said, “Now, my little friend, you go on your way and be happy. You will never have any colour. But from this moment on you will have something more special than all the colours of the birds in my world; from this moment on
you will sing with a golden throat
! So, go on your way, my little nightingale, and be happy!”

That nightingale flew off; it will remain a little grey bird till the end of time. But it has something more special than all the colours of all the birds in the world, because it has the most beautiful singing voice of all. The voice of the nightingale, given to it by God’s last little piece of golden paint from his last teeny little brush, after he had painted all the birds in the world.