Not based on true events

Mr. RBNU was not a jealous fellow, though, at the same time, he could not bear injustice, especially injustice to himself. He, and Mrs. RBNU had long ago found a grate feeder filled to the brim with suet and fat, and it was their chief pleasure to visit it and partake of its gifts. What a pair they made, these Red-breasted Nuthatches, with their cocky caps (black in the case of Mr.RBNU) and their ruddily painted bellies and smoky blue backs! And they even made a better pair with their constant chattering, peeping and chirping to each other. But there was no peeping or chirping today, for they were at the suet, pecking hungrily at it’s delightful strands and bits. At first, all was well and dandy, each being content with their share, but then, in an ill-fated moment, Mr. RBNU caught sight of his mate-and there was a sizable strand of suet in her bill. With this she would have, in another moment, flown off, had not Mr. RBNU flitted like a flash of light in front of her and greedily took hold of the loose end of the strand and yanked. Mrs. RBNU yanked back just at determinedly, and there they were, clinging sideways on the grate with the suet pulled taunt between them. They gave another yank, and another, each determined to win the prize. I am afraid they did not realize how foolish they looked, and they would not have cared if they had. The strand between them was extended to its utmost length when, suddenly it snapped with a “ pink!” and off the two birds tumbled in opposite directions, only just catching themselves in mid-air, and flying off indignantly with a half of the suet strand in each of their bills. I am afraid that there was much less chattering between them many a day after, but now, thankfully, I hear their eager little conversation in the tree. Perhaps next time they will share the suet instead of fighting over it.

Not based on true events

“Man!” exclaimed her husband, “ there is not a farm for miles around, let alone a man!” “Nevertheless,” said she, leaping from the reeds in which they were concealed, and perching herself on the nest rim, “ It is better to be safe than sorry.” And with that, she sat in the nest, and tucking her head near her breast, prepared herself for slumber. Despite sore wings, Butovii knew his duty, and would not shirk it. With stiff wing beats he rose into the air, and settled on a branch nearby to guard through the night. Everything had grown still, and the crickets chirped tunefully, and the moon rose gracefully and not a more peaceful sight could be seen. Thus it remained for hours, until early in the times after twelve, Butovii was alarmed by some movement in the grass at the edge of the pond. Quickly, he awoke Torii, and she stretched her neck to peer at the moving being. “ Man,” she whispered long and low. And man it was, a poacher looking for eggs in the dead of night. As still as the tree, the herons remained, watching him intently. They thanked our Lord that he discovered nothing which pleased him, and Butovii was relieved that they had not nested near the ground as he would have wanted. Finally, as silently as he had come, the man left and the birds could breath again. “ Well,” said Torii with a ruffle of her feathers, “ It is a good thing we did nest up here.” “Indeed it is,” admitted her husband, then turned a questioning eye upon her, “ How did you know that man would come here?” “ I didn’t,” was the frank reply, “ Only, from where I came, there were humans everywhere, young and old, and many were nest thieves. I lived in a park pool, don’t you know, and know from bitter experience to stay out of their reach. That’s why I’m so jumpy, for who wouldn’t be with so much noise and clatter all about?” “ Yes, indeed, who wouldn’t be...” repeated Butovii thoughtfully. Inside, he thought: “ So that explains it all. I don’t think Torii will succumb to death as soon as my last mate,” And that was a very good thing, and Butovii again kept watch for the remainder of the early hours, and he and Torii had many happy years to look forward to, for neither was reckless or bold.

Not based on true events

Some days ago, I drew an image of a bird which, after I finished it, struck me as quite a charming feathered fowl. It does not live here in Saskatchewan, but a its close relative does. The title of this bird is the Green Heron, and it is akin to our Black-crowned Night-heron, only its crown is a sable green that glistens in the sun, and its body a chestnut hue. The certain Green Heron of whom this story is concerned was named Butovii and he had been a widower up to a recent date. His past mate, known as Vires, had been very beautiful, and he had loved her with all his heart. She was bold and brave in her day, but also quite reckless, and that is how Butovii had lost her many years ago. Now, his mourning and grief had subsided, and he took another mate, who, strangely enough, was quite the opposite in temper to Vires. Her name was Torii, and my, was there anything in the world of which she was not frightened? She caught worms only to be startled by their movements at the tip of her bill; she ate minnows only to worry if they would give her indigestion, and she would not even venture to touch a snake. To all these frights, Butovii would only shake his head , and help her as best he could. But it was another story when it came to the construction of their nest. The marsh in which they dwelt was the most isolated, peaceful body of water for miles around, with cool green water, and plants and flowers which shimmered in the sun. Even still, Torii had to insist on a nest in the tip-top branches of a craggy old tree. It was all right for her relatively arthritis-free wings, but for Butovii, it was agony to make hundreds of trips every day up into those boughs. “The pond snails, even, are relatively safe on the ground! Why must we go so high up in the trees?” he protested one day when the nest was nearly completed. Torii, who was shy in all other respects, was rather sharp with her husband, but never unkindly. “ Stop complaining!” said she, “ If you really must know, we must build here because-,”  and here she lowered her voice to a whisper, “ -of man.” 

To be continued...

Not based on true events

“Caw? Caw?” returned the crow. “Yes,” said the man, “There is a secret I must give to another before I die, and in here, I can not find a single person to keep it. Thus, I must content myself with ill-fortune which will befall my ship when I die. Ah, the world is hard,” and he drooped his head onto his arms. The crow, though, was quite elated at this chance. Here was an opportunity to keep a secret and aid another in distress! He nearly danced off the sill with excitement, and the man drew himself up in surprise. “ What’s the matter?” he inquired as the crow cawed and cawed. But as soon as the man had spoken, the bird fell silent. Again and again he asked, and again and again the same occurred, until, in time, he began to realize the message of the crow. “What?!” he said in astonishment, “You? You want me to tell you?” and then soberly said: “Are you sure you won’t tell anyone?” The beak nodded vigorously, and yet the man hesitated. But at length, he set his mouth near the feathered ear of the crow, and began to whisper of his wife and children whom he had left, of the ship he had joined, and the treasure which was buried right at the building’s feet, which he could not find. Then he spoke of the curse under which he was held, and, in conclusion, drew back and looked at the crow directly into its deep, bright, brown eyes. “ You won’t tell anyone?” said he and the crow shook his head, and with a hop and skip, disappeared into the night, with the man watching from his window as it flew off. Then, he shut the pane, and dimmed the light. The next day, the crow was discussing the cold weather that had swept in with a Mourning Dove while perched upon a high apartment roof. But she was not interested in the freezing temperatures coming their way. No, she was more interested in the happenings of the night before. “I heard you went to the hospital and spoke with a human,” said she, “What were you talking about.” “I can’t tell you,” said the crow stoutly. “Oh,” said the dove coaxingly, “you can now. I saw the man’s obituary in this morning’s paper and-” “ And I can not tell,” returned the other valiantly, “I will honour my pact, whether he has passed from this world or not.”And with that, he leapt into the air and was off. I can tell you now. He did keep his promise. He told no soul, and somewhere, there is wealth buried of which no one is aware, and a crow who kept that secret to his dying day.

Not based on true events

Now, there was once a crow, an American Crow, who was an immense keeper of secrets. Many a creature, be it bird or beast, presented him with every clandestine hint or tip, or even knowledge , which they would tell to no one else. But do you know which being would not tell him their secrets, no matter how well he guarded those of others? Well, it was humans. For some strange reason, they had it fixed in their heads that the crow was a babbler, and would purposefully speak in low tones if he was near. Now, how this came to be is beyond comprehension; perhaps it was the raucous cawing of the bird which caused it, but not a word of secrets was in a single caw of the crow since he hatched. To be mistrusted frustrated the crow a great deal, and he would offer his shut bill again and again to mankind. First he tried a baker, then a seamstress, and finally, a bus driver, but it was of no avail. As soon as the crow came nearer, their voices turned immediately into whispers. And so the unfortunate bird took off with a saddened heart, and wondered if anyone would entrust their secret to him. He thought not as he flew up there in the sky which had hastened its way to night, and from above the light of the stars wer4e shining. In time, he passed over a monstrous edifice, and would have taken no note of it had he not seen a single glowing window within it. “ One who is up that late must surely have a secret,” thought he and swept down towards its sill, and alighted upon it. Within, wrapped in a house coat, and sitting and writing at a desk, was a young man. “ Caw, caw!” said the crow to catch his attention. The young man looked up, and one could see great red circles below his eyes, for he was in a hospital, and this was his room. Then, he arose, and staggered towards the bird. Opening the window, he gazed upon the crow and the crow upon him, and both were mightily surprised that each bore each other’s presence. At length, the man sighed, and said confidentially: “ You’re lucky to be free, out in the world. What I wouldn’t do to take your place.”

To be continued...