The Bird’s Message A JEWISH FOLK TALE

Retold by Pamela Love A STORY MAY begin in many ways. This one starts with a song. . . .

Early one morning, a queen was riding through the woods some distance from her palace. As the sun painted the eastern sky with shades of pink, birdsong filled the air. To the keen-eared queen, one of these songs stood out from the rest, the notes soaring high and sweet with cheer.

Halting her horse, the queen whispered, “Never have I heard such a melody. I shall not rest until I make that bird my own.”

Dismounting, the queen scanned the branches until she dis-covered the starling whose voice she so admired. His dark blue plumage shaded into vivid purple around his neck. She set a snare, which she baited with sliced mango—a rare treat for this bird. A short time later, she collected her prize, tucked him into a saddlebag, and cantered home.

“Fetch the royal birdcage!” she commanded. A lady-in-waiting brought the gaudy thing forth, setting it beside the throne. “Only the finest home for you, my treasure,” the queen crooned, as she fastened the door shut behind the starling. She hung the key to the cage on a narrow gold chain she wore around her neck. RICHLY

ORNAMENTED. Alarm at his sudden loss of

freedom, not to mention the noise and stares from the people of the palace, kept the starling

CROONED MEANS TO SING OR SPEAK IN trembling and silent behind A SMOOTH,

SOOTHING WAY. the gold-plated steel bars. The queen offered tasty berries to him, which eased his fright

GAUDY MEANS

I l lustrated by Anja Klauss text © 2018 by Pamela Love, art © 2018 by Anja Klauss 23

somewhat, though his grip remained tense on the perch.

However, it wasn’t long before the queen only fed him as a reward for singing. To her delight, he quickly learned to cooperate. Her pleasure with this new possession only increased when the starling began to speak to her, and not merely imitating words, as parrots do.

Yet always these words were appeals for release. “I am wild. I am not meant to be a

pet, Your Majesty.” “Ah, but you are not a pet. Instead, you

are one of my most valuable possessions. You are an ornament to my palace, decorating it with

your glorious voice. Now, sing once more.” This went on for weeks. Certainly the queen

noticed there was some sweetness lacking in the starling’s song, but hearing her bird singing whenever she chose made up

for any slight imperfection. One morning, the starling awoke with a wail. “Unfair! Unfair! That a

human should fly, while I remain trapped here in the palace!” “Fly?” asked the queen. “Why, what do you mean?” “When I slept, I dreamt that you collected a new treasure, a flying carpet, on

which you soared above the earth, as I once did,” replied the bird. The queen laughed. “What a notion! There is no such thing as a flying carpet.

Dreams are often of impossible things. Sing, my treasure, and forget such nonsense.” But that day the starling’s song was decidedly off-key. Over the next two days

he sang less and less, and grew thinner as his diet diminished. The queen switched tactics. Servants brought a variety of different insects and sweet fruits, such as mangoes, dates, and pomegranates, to tempt his appetite, without result.

Worried about her valuable bird, the queen said frankly, “I will not set you free. Is there anything else I can do to make you happy enough to sing once more?”

After thinking it over, the bird answered, “I wish to send a message to my friends and family in the forest. They don’t know my fate. They may

mistakenly grieve for my death. Or perhaps they hold out false hope for my return. Let me at least let them know I dwell in a palace, locked

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in a golden cage by a queen. Perhaps I can resign myself to captivity if those I love know the truth.”

With a snap of her fingers, the queen summoned a trusted knight. “Ride swiftly to the forest due east of here. Announce this starling’s message in three separate places, so it is certain that the friends and kin of my treasure-bird hear it.” She hesitated. “When you return, tell us if they have any news for him. People often send messages by pigeons. Why shouldn’t a bird send a message by a person?”

The knight lost no time reaching the woods. Birds filled the trees sur-rounding him, hunting, nesting, or feeding. By a winding stream, the knight announced, “The starling that departed these woods the day after the last full moon now lives in a cage by the side of the queen. She considers him a trea-sure.” The birds seemed to take no notice.

An hour’s ride away, the knight repeated these words by a moss-covered rock. Once again, the birds ignored him.

Persevering, the knight continued his journey until he found the tallest tree in the forest. A few birds nearly identical to the queen’s hopped from branch to branch. “Ah, no doubt these are the kin of the queen’s starling. Likely they will be interested in the message.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Hark, starlings. The starling that departed this forest on the day after the last full moon has been taken by the queen of this realm. She considers him one of her finest treasures and listens to him sing every day.” There was dead silence from the starlings.

Somewhat annoyed by this reaction, the knight added, “He sings from a golden cage!”

At that, one of the starlings plunged to the forest floor. Beside the roots, she flung back her head and flailed her wings. Alarmed, the knight stepped back. At last the bird collapsed. One feather seemed to twitch feebly for a moment, before becoming still.

Sinking to his knees, the knight cradled the bird in his hands. “I am so sorry, little one. If only I had known! But I should have realized how precious freedom must seem to you creatures of the air. Plainly the queen’s starling is already griev-ing his captivity. Oh, what shall I tell your kin now?” Deeply ashamed, the knight replaced the starling on the forest floor, gently covering her with a few leaves.

Even the knight’s horse sensed his low mood and plodded home. Wishing he were anywhere else, the knight’s sense of duty drove him to the throne room.

“What news?” inquired the queen. Kneeling before her, the knight shook his head. He couldn’t look either the

queen or the starling in the eye. “Nothing?” whispered the bird. “Have I been forgotten so soon?” “Anything but!” the knight burst out. “When I told them of your new . . .

position, the other starlings stopped to listen. But when I said you were locked in a cage, one fell dead at my feet, and I could only cover her with leaves.”

“No!” shrieked the queen’s bird. He swooned on his perch and plunged to the bottom of the cage, flinging back his head and flailing his wings. At last, he collapsed. One feather seemed to twitch feebly for a moment, before becoming still.

The queen was horrified, but no more so than the knight. She opened the cage, and carried the starling to the window sill. “Air, he needs fresh air!” The knight shoved the window open, and a cool breeze flowed into the throne room.

Instantly, the starling launched himself outside, where he perched high on a cherry tree branch. “Thank you, mes-senger! Because of you, one of my kin was able to teach me how to escape.” Moments later, in a flash of blue and purple feathers, the former queen’s treasure was gone.

A story can end in many ways. This one ends as it began, with the most joyful song the queen had ever heard.

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