It's Mother's Day on Sunday. Rather than a story about mothers, I want to honor something I remember my mother doing with me when I was quite little, probably my earliest memory. She would take me on walks identifying plants and birds. It's given me a lifelong interest in "What's that?!?"
Here back in 2017, a book she read me called When the Root Children Wake Up was mentioned in relation to plant identification. In 2017 it was 111 years old and is still being published. There now are two different versions with either the original or new illustrations. Right now is a perfect time to contact your nearby park naturalist as wildflower walks are happening seemingly everywhere!
Something else I'm noticing lately is how walking anywhere outside in the daytime is accompanied by bird song. Songbirds migrate and they are clearly back. Mom not only had bird identification books, but eventually added tapes to help her identify them by their song.
I confess I'm nowhere near as good at identifying them by either song or sight, but I keep trying.
Today's story has birds commonly seen, except, possibly, the Bluebird of the title. Hiking local county parks reveals volunteer-maintained bluebird houses. I've thought of adding one to my own yard since they're good at catching mosquitoes. It also might give me opportunity to see more than just a flash of its too rarely seen blue body. Even as it flies past, if it wasn't for that bit of blue, you might mistake it for a robin with its similarly colored chest.
Today's story's varied birds each have definite personalities matching the birds in real life. It makes telling the story fun to bring each to life. The story has a frame of a boy talking to the "Wise-and-Wonder-Man." Like most literary frames introducing and closing a story, it's often best to remove it for storytelling. I'm going to do that here, but include a parting comment that ends the story. In between I will insert a photo of the bird as it is mentioned. In telling the story it helps to have that bit of a visual, especially for young listeners. If the children are familiar with birds, you can first show the picture to see if they know what it is. You can even have a bit of Readers Theater, having children assigned a specific bird. They can go from the easiest participation by just holding up their bird whenever it's mentioned up through fullest involvement reading that bird's part if they can manage it.
For additional audience participation, the brief verse about the herald is easily learned or read. Check if the word "herald" is unfamiliar. You might get an answer about the name, Harold! Children can enjoy the idea of Spring being like a king with a bird, as herald, announcing his arrival.
All birds photos were found on Unsplash.com, an excellent source for photos available to download. To help shorten captions, I
removed that from their captions, only giving photographer credit. The
Unsplash site is an online way to publicize photographer work and, hopefully,
find even more work.
At the story's end I'll say a little more about the author and where I found it. In storytelling I would not give the title as it reveals more than it should, although eventually it's obvious how the story should end to be satisfactory.
HOW THE BLUEBIRD WAS CHOSEN HERALD
Jay T. Stocking
“You know there are four spirits of the year, Springtime,
Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Some folks call them seasons, but they
are really spirits. Of all four spirits, Springtime is the
favourite. He had been coming to the earth every year for a great
many years, year after year, when he got it into his head that it
would be a fine thing and quite becoming to his dignity to have a
herald,—some one to carry his colours and play the fife. At first
he thought of the fragrant flowers, they could bear his colours. But
he reflected that they could not play the fife. Then he thought of
the buzzing bee; he might be taught to play the fife. But he
remembered that he would not do, because he could not carry the
colours. So he decided that he must have a bird.
“Springtime, being a very lively and practical spirit, called
the birds together that very morning. He asked them all to meet him
by the Great Rock under the Great Tree by the Great Bend of the Big
River. They all came—birds of every size and colour and
description. He sat on the Great Rock while the birds sat on the
grass and listened with wide, round, blinking eyes and with heads
cocked to one side.
“He made a speech to them of some length. He told them that he
desired a herald to carry his colours and to play the fife. Of
course, the bird to be chosen should be handsome and musical. But he
must be more than all that. He wanted a bird of exceptionally good
character, in fact, the very best bird that could be found. He did
not expect to find a perfect bird, he said, but he desired a bird as
nearly perfect as he could obtain. He concluded his speech by saying
that his herald should be:
“‘Both handsome and happy, gifted
and good,
And as modest as modest can be.
The very best bird that flies in the
wood,
I would that my herald be he.’
The choice, he said, he would leave to the birds as they knew each
other thoroughly.
“The birds put their heads together and talked in at least forty
different languages. Finally, their spokesman told Springtime that
they were content to leave the selection to a committee of six whom
he might name. As Springtime wanted to be on good terms with all the
birds, he thought it not best that he should appoint the committee.
He pulled a handful of grass and held it tightly between his hands
just so that the ends would stick out, and then he asked the birds to
come up, one by one, and pull out a blade. The six who should draw
out the shortest blades of grass were to be the committee.
“They walked up one by one, and drew.
Mr. Crow drew the shortest
blade and so was the chairman.
Mr. Parrot came next,
then Mr. Blue
Jay,
Mr. Robin,
Mr. English Sparrow,
and Mr. Bluebird.
It was a
strange committee, to be sure, of all sizes and kinds of birds.
“That very evening the six birds met in a corner of Mr. Farmer’s
orchard upon a dead branch of an old apple tree. They talked and
talked and talked. They discussed all the birds that they knew, spoke
of their good qualities and their bad ones.
“At last, as it grew late, very late, almost eight o’clock,
and they had come to no conclusion, Mr. Bluebird proposed that they
should vote, and all agreed. But how should they vote? That was the
next question. Mr. Bluebird suggested that each one, as his name was
called, should stand up and say which bird he thought was best fitted
to be the herald. Mr. Crow cleared his throat and said that he did
not think this was the wisest way. He thought it better, he
continued, that each one should write the name of his choice on the
under side of a leaf. The other members of the committee agreed with
Mr. Crow. Each bird, therefore, took a leaf, and wrote a name upon
it, and Mr. Bluebird counted the votes. There was one vote for Mr.
Crow, one vote for Mr. Parrot, one for Mr. Blue Jay, one for Mr.
Robin, one for Mr. English Sparrow, and one for—I don’t remember
whether it was for Mr. Song Sparrow or Mr. Bobolink. Would you
believe it?—every bird except the bluebird had voted for himself.
The bluebird knew, because he knew the foot-writing of all the birds.
He had seen it in the soft sand by the water.
“It was certain that they were not going to be able to decide
among themselves who should be chosen, so Mr. Bluebird made another
suggestion.
“‘I recommend,’ he said, ‘that we go and consult the old
Wizard, Mr. Owl, who holds court every night by the light of the moon
in the hollow of a great grey tree over the ridge. He is the wisest
of birds and knows everything. I have heard, too, that whenever there
is a star with a tail in the sky he can read your fortunes and your
character. Now it so happens that at this very time there is in the
sky a star with a tail, for I saw it this morning. Little Bluey, my
eldest child, woke up very early and I had to fly out to get him a
worm to keep him quiet. Just as I was starting, long before sunrise,
I saw the comet. I propose that we go at once and consult the Wizard
and let him decide for us who should be the herald.’
“‘It seems to me,’ said the crow, ‘that this is a most
excellent suggestion. The Wizard is certainly a very wise bird. I
have heard of him and doubtless he has heard of me. By all means, let
us go.’
“It was decided then and there that they should go that very
night, just as soon as the comet rose. Mr. Bluebird was to give the
signal because he knew where to look for the comet.
“At the proper moment Mr. Bluebird shook them all by the wing
and woke them up, and they started, Mr. Crow going first, then Mr.
Parrot, Mr. Blue Jay, Mr. Robin, Mr. English Sparrow, and Mr.
Bluebird.
“They flew and they flew and they flew, for it was a long way
and a hard way to find, and not one of the six had ever been out so
late in his life. When they reached the wood they were obliged to fly
very carefully, so that they should not bump their heads against the
trees, and so that they might be able to read the signs along the
way. At length they spied a great grey tree, with a dimly lighted
window in it, far up the trunk. Mr. Crow read the name on the
door-plate and announced that they had reached the right house. There
was no door-bell so Mr. Crow scratched three times,—scratch,
scratch, scratch.
“‘Who-who?’ came from within.
“‘Friends,’ said the crow, ‘six friends come to consult
the Wizard.’
“The latch was promptly lifted and the six birds walked solemnly
in and up the stairs.
“They found themselves in a little dark round room with seats
against the sides. Mr. Owl sat over on one side, his great fluffy
coat turned up at the neck and his fluffy hood pulled down to meet
it. He had his spectacles on and was reading by the light of his
lamp,—that is, it looked like a lamp, but Mr. Owl explained later
that it was not a lamp but the comet’s light which he caught
through a knot-hole.
“The Wizard received them pleasantly and motioned to them to be
seated. Mr. Crow sat down in front of the Wizard at his right, then
the others in order, Mr. Bluebird sitting at the left.
“‘It is very late,’ observed the owl. ‘It must be most
important business that brings you to me at this hour of the night.’
“‘It is,’ replied the crow, ‘exceedingly important
business, indeed.’
“Then in plain and emphatic words he told the Wizard what their
errand was. He repeated as nearly as he could the speech of
Springtime, especially the last words:
“‘Both handsome and happy, gifted
and good,
And as modest as modest can be.
The very best bird that flies in the
wood,
I would that my herald be he.’
“He told the Wizard of their inability to decide who should be
chosen and of their conclusion to leave the choice to him. This was
the reason of their visit.
“Then the owl looked grave as a judge and remarked, ‘It seems
to me in this situation that the first thing to be done is to secure
the opinion of each of you as to who is the fittest bird to be
chosen. Mr. Crow, will you be so good as to give us your opinion?’
“Mr. Crow stood up, cleared his throat, and said, ‘To speak
quite frankly, it seems to me that I, myself, should be chosen. It is
scarcely possible to find a better bird.’
“‘What makes you think so?’ asked the owl dryly.
“‘My wife,’ said the crow. ‘Only to-day Mrs. Crow said to
me, “Mr. Crow, my dear husband, you are a perfect man, unless—”’
“‘Unless what?’ inquired the Wizard, raising his eyebrows.
“‘I don’t recollect,’ replied the crow, ‘in fact, I
didn’t hear distinctly, but I am sure it was something
unimportant,’ and he sat down.
“‘Mr. Parrot,’ said the Wizard, ‘your opinion, if you
please.’
“‘It is my opinion,’ said Mr. Parrot, ‘that I am the bird
who should be chosen. I have heard myself talk on many an occasion,
and I am sure that I speak both wisdom and wit. In modesty, I forbear
to say more.’
“‘Mr. Blue Jay!’ called the Wizard.
“‘Since you ask me, Mr. Wizard, for my honest opinion I am
bound to say that I feel that I am the only bird for this position. I
have been looking in the glass to-day; in fact, I see myself in the
glass very often, and I have never yet observed a single fault in
myself. There is no bird who can say more.’
“‘Mr. Robin, if you please.’
“Mr. Robin arose with his fingers in his armholes: ‘I am quite
convinced, Mr. Wizard, from much observation, that I should be made
the herald. I am handsome and gifted, if I do say it myself. Besides,
I live in the best of society; I dwell in the Bishop’s orchard.
This very day I heard the Bishop say, “That robin is a fine,
handsome bird,—as fine and handsome as a Bishop.” I am sure that
recommendation is enough.’
“‘Mr. English Sparrow.’
“‘I am sure, Mr. Wizard,’ said the sparrow, speaking very
rapidly and excitedly, ‘that while I am not so big as some of these
who have spoken, I have a better claim than any of them to this high
office. For I have long made it a practice to study carefully the
faults and weaknesses of all the other birds, and I know that I have
none of these failings.’
“‘Mr. Bluebird,’ said the Wizard, ‘what have you to say?’
“‘Nothing, Mr. Wizard. I have not made up my mind. I leave the
matter entirely to your eminent wisdom and judgment.’ And he sat
down.
“‘Well,’ said the owl, after a moment’s deliberation, ‘the
next thing to do under these circumstances seems to be to read your
fortunes, that is, your characters, in the light of the comet. I
shall ask you, one by one, to step up on this judgment-seat at my
left, where the light of the comet can fall on you and where I can
see you plainly. Mr. Crow, will you be the first?’
“Mr. Crow stepped up to the judgment-seat very confidently,
while the Wizard put on his spectacles and turned the lamp so that
the light fell full upon the glossy feathers of the large black bird.
It was a revolving seat, which the Wizard turned round and round
slowly so that he could see all sides of the bird. ‘A fine bird,’
he said, very deliberately, as if thinking aloud, ‘a perfect bird,
unless—unless what?—let me see—ah, a slant in the left eye—in
both eyes—a very decided slant—very sly—very
cunning—inclined to steal—very much inclined to steal—a
thief, in fact; steals Mr. Farmer’s corn and peas—especially in
the early morning when nobody is around—a very bad fault—one
of the worst. I am quite sure, Mr. Crow, that Springtime would not
choose you for his herald—he could not trust you. That will do. Mr.
Parrot!’
“Mr. Parrot walked up very sedately and took his place on the
judgment-seat. The Wizard gazed at him gravely and stroked his back.
‘Fine feathers—green, red—yellow—fine feathers—rather small
head—large tongue—large tongue, small head—talks more than he
thinks—talks very much more than he thinks—talks often
without thinking—says what he hears others say. Tongue
rather harsh, too—and blisters at the end—bad words! bad words! I
am sorry to say, Mr. Parrot, that I cannot recommend you as herald.
People would not be glad to see you year after year. That will do.
Mr. Blue Jay!’
“The blue jay stepped up very jauntily and took the seat.
“The Wizard looked at him admiringly, for he was clad in a
beautiful tailor-made suit that fitted him to perfection. ‘A
handsome bird,’ he said, ‘a handsome bird,—that is, handsome
clothes. Eye very good, too—a little slant, a little slant—but on
the whole a good eye. Let me see, what is this on the back of the
head? these long feathers?—oh, a crest! I see. Just for decoration.
A vain bird, vain as a peacock—and like all vain people, hard to
get along with—and very unfriendly—likes to flock alone—other
folks not quite good enough. I regret to inform you, Mr. Blue Jay,
that Springtime would not desire you as his herald. That will do. Mr.
Robin!’
“The robin hopped up on the seat in his fine dress suit and red
shirt-front, his chest inflated and his eyes shining. The Wizard
looked at him intently for some time, then he began, ‘You are the
Bishop’s friend, you say. Let me see—a bright red spot on your
bill—the Bishop’s cherries, I should say—but we’ll let that
pass. Eye very suspicious—very suspicious—always looking
even among your best friends, to see if somebody isn’t going to
harm you—cannot pull a worm out of the Bishop’s garden without
looking around suspiciously all the time. A very unhappy frame of
mind to be in—unhappy for you—unhappy for others. You would
hardly do for the herald. That will do. Mr. English Sparrow!’
“The English sparrow fluttered up noisily and took his place.
‘You say,’ began the Wizard, ‘that you have not the faults of
the other birds.’
“‘Yes,’ said the sparrow, talking very fast, ‘I am not as
mean as the crow, and I don’t talk such nonsense as old Polly, and
I’m not so stuck up as the jay, and I am not suspicious as the
Bishop’s friend is. I haven’t any of the faults of the other
birds.’
“The Wizard pushed his spectacles up on his brow, turned the
light away, and looked at him, ‘I see,’ he said, ‘I do not need
the comet light at all. I could see you in the dark. Sharp bill—sharp
tongue—sharp claws, in a continual state of bad temper—very
quarrelsome—very unpleasant neighbour; in fact, a common nuisance.
That will do, Mr. Bluebird!’
“‘I am sure, Mr. Owl,’ said the bluebird, rising, ‘that I
need not take your time. I am not the bird to be chosen, for I know
that I am far from being a perfect bird. I have many faults. There
are many nobler birds than I from whom Springtime may choose his
herald.’
“But the Wizard was quite insistent that the bluebird should
come forward where he could read his fortune.
“‘You say that you have many faults,’ remarked the Owl.
‘That may be, but I see by the light of the comet that they are
small, very faint indeed. Besides, the ability to see one’s faults
and the desire to correct them is the greatest of virtues. There may
be better birds, but I am frank to say that I am not acquainted with
them. I have no hesitation, Mr. Bluebird, in saying that it is my
judgment that you should be the herald of the Spring, for, if you
will permit me to say it, it seems that you are
“‘Both handsome and happy, gifted
and good,
And as modest as modest can be,’
whereat Mr. Bluebird blushed painfully, while in his heart he was
very happy.
“Springtime agreed with Mr. Owl, and posted notices on every
tree by the water’s edge that Mr. Bluebird should henceforth be his
herald, the first bird of the spring.
“There is one now on the branch of that old tree,” said the
Wise-and-Wonder-Man. “He is carrying the colours and playing the
fife.”
***
If you should wonder how that Bluebird sounds, announcing Spring, “it always sounds to
me as if he were saying, ‘Pur-i-ty, pur-i-ty,’ but I asked him
one day and he said it was only, ‘Spring-is-here, spring-is-here.’”
That was how Jay T. Stocking ended the story.
Whether to a photographer laughing at a winking owl or an author, birds have long fascinated us. As natural historian and maker of nature documentaries,
David Attenborough, says, "Everyone likes birds. What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to us and everyone in the world, as universal as a bird?"
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes
Everyone likes birds.
What wild creature is more accessible to our eyes and ears, as close to
us and everyone in the world, as universal as a bird?
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes
Stocking, or perhaps I should say Reverend Stocking, as he spent most of his life as a minister even writing one hymn, but he also wrote several books of stories for children and young adults. Can you imagine how lively his sermons must have been? Some time I may post more from his Stocking Tales, where this was originally published. I own that book, but first discovered today's offering in my recent acquisition by the Skinner sisters, Ada M. and Eleanor L., The Emerald Story Book; Stories and Legends of Spring, Nature and Easter.
I now have their entire year of four jewel-named books. They are indeed jewels, so I'm delighted to have them to prowl, but my copies are paperback reprints losing the full-color of the Maxfield Parrish frontispiece illustrations. Today and in the future I find Project Gutenberg online helps save my books and are worth supporting their organization for their many Public Domain books. So far they don't offer the rest of the "jewels" in the series not linked to the seasons, so I hope they add them soon.
Just as Reverend Stocking found birds worth observing, there also are many quotations about birds, including this appropriate one from the Uruguayan writer, Eduardo Galeano:
Each day has a story to -- deserves to be told, because we are made of stories. I mean, scientists say that human beings are made of atoms, but a little bird told me that we are also made of stories.
Let us keep those stories alive and in the Public Domain.
*****************
This
is part of a series of postings of stories under the category,
"Keeping the Public in Public Domain." The idea
behind Public Domain was to preserve our cultural heritage after the
authors and their immediate heirs were compensated. I feel
strongly current copyright law delays this intent on works of the
20th century. My
own library of folklore includes so many books within the Public
Domain I decided to share stories from them. I hope you enjoy
discovering new stories.
At
the same time, my own involvement in storytelling regularly creates
projects requiring research as part of my sharing stories with an
audience. Whenever that research needs to be shown here, the publishing
of Public Domain stories will not occur that week. This is a return to
my regular posting of a research project here. (Don't worry, this
isn't dry research, my research is always geared towards future
storytelling to an audience.) Response has convinced me that "Keeping
the Public in Public Domain" should continue along with my other
postings as often as I can manage it.
Other
Public Domain story resources I recommend-
There
are many online resources for Public Domain stories, maybe none for
folklore is as ambitious as fellow storyteller, Yoel Perez's
database, Yashpeh,
the International Folktales Collection. I have long
recommended it and continue to do so. He has loaded
Stith Thompson's Motif Index into his server as a database so
you can search the whole 6 volumes for whatever word or expression
you like by pressing one key. http://folkmasa.org/motiv/motif.htm
- You may have noticed I'm no
longer certain Dr. Perez has the largest database, although his
offering the Motif Index certainly qualifies for those of us seeking
specific types of stories. There's another site, FairyTalez
claiming to be the largest, with "over 2000 fairy tales,
folktales, and fables" and they are "fully optimized for
phones, tablets, and PCs", free and presented without ads.
Between those two sites, there
is much for story-lovers, but as they say in infomercials, "Wait,
there's more!"
The
email list for storytellers, Storytell,
discussed Online Story Sources and came up with these additional
suggestions:
-
Story-Lovers - http://www.story-lovers.com/ is now only accessible
through the Wayback Machine, described below, but the late Jackie Baldwin's
wonderful site lives on there, fully searchable manually (the Google
search doesn't work), at https://archive.org/ . It's not easy, but go to Story-lovers.com snapshot for October 22 2016 and you can click on SOS: Searching Out Stories to scroll down through the many story topics and click on the story topic that interests you.
You're
going to find many of the links on these sites have gone down, BUT
go to the Internet Archive
Wayback Machine to find some of these old links. Tim's
site, for example, is so huge probably updating it would be a
full-time job. In the case of Story-Lovers, it's great that
Jackie Baldwin set it up to stay online as long as it did after she
could no longer maintain it. Possibly searches maintained it.
Unfortunately Storytell list member, Papa Joe is on both Tim
Sheppard's site and Story-Lovers, but he no longer maintains his old
Papa Joe's Traveling Storytelling Show website and his Library
(something you want to see!) is now only on the Wayback Machine. It
took some patience working back through claims of snapshots but finally
in December of 2006 it appears!
Somebody
as of this writing whose stories can still be found by his website
is the late Chuck Larkin - http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html.
I prefer to list these sites by their complete address so they can
be found by the Wayback Machine, a.k.a. Archive.org, when that
becomes the only way to find them.
You
can see why I recommend these to you. Have fun
discovering even more stories!
Each day has a story to
- deserves to be told, because we are made of stories. I mean,
scientists say that human beings are made of atoms, but a little bird
told me that we are also made of stories.
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes
Each day has a story to
- deserves to be told, because we are made of stories. I mean,
scientists say that human beings are made of atoms, but a little bird
told me that we are also made of stories.
Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/topics/bird-quotes
