bird short story Archive

THE PHŒNIX N the top of a palm tree, in an oasis of the Arabian desert, sat the Phœnix, glowering moodily upon the world below. He was alone, quite alone, in his old age, as he had been alone in his youth, and in his middle years; for the Phœnix has neither mate nor children, and there is never but one of his kind upon the earth. Once he had been proud of his solitariness and of his unusual beauty, which caused such wonder when he went abroad. But now he was old and weak and weary, and he was lonely, oh! so lonely! He had lived too long, he thought. For years and years and years, afar and apart, he had watched the coming [&hellip

Read More...

THE GOOD HUNTER NCE upon a time there was an Indian who was a famous hunter. But he did not hunt for fun; he took no pleasure in killing the little wild creatures, birds and beasts and fishes, and did so only when it was necessary for him to have food or skins for his clothing. He was a very kind and generous man, and loved all the wood-creatures dearly, often feeding them from his own larder, and protecting them from their enemies. So the animals and birds loved him as their best friend, and he was known as the Good Hunter. The Good Hunter was very brave, and often went to war with the fierce savages who were the enemies of his tribe. One [&hellip

Read More...

THE OWL AND THE MOON HEN the moon is round and full, if you look very carefully at the golden disk you can see in shadowy outline the profile of a beautiful lady. She is leaning forward as if looking down upon our earth, and there is a little smile upon her sweet lips. This fair dame is Putri Balan, the Princess of the Moon, and she smiles because she remembers how once upon a time she cheated old Mr. Owl, her tiresome lover. Putri Balan, so they tell you in Malay, was always very, very beautiful, as we see her now. Like all the Malay women, Putri Balan loved to chew the spicy betel-nut which turns one’s lips a bright scarlet. It is better, [&hellip

Read More...

THE FOWLS ON PILGRIMAGE NCE upon a time old Lady Fox was very hungry, but she had nothing to eat, and there was no sign of a dinner to be had anywhere. “What shall I do, what shall I do?” whined the Fox. “I am so faint and hungry, but all the birds and all the fowls are afraid of me and will not venture near enough for me to consult them about a dinner. I have so bad a name that no one will trust me. What can I do to win back the respect of the community and earn a square meal? Ah, I have it! I will turn pious and go upon a pilgrimage. That ought to make me popular once more.” [&hellip

Read More...

THE BLACKBIRD AND THE FOX NE day Madame Fox, who was strolling along under the hedge, heard a Blackbird trilling on a branch. Quick as thought she jumped and seized the little fellow, and was about to gobble him down then and there. But the Blackbird began to chirp piteously:— “Oh, oh, Madame Fox! What are you thinking of? Just see, I am such a tiny mouthful! And when I am gone—I am gone. Only let me free and I will tell you something. Look! Here come some peasant women with eggs and cheese which they are carrying to the market at Verrières. That would be a meal worth having! Only let me go, and I will help you, Master Fox.” The Fox saw that [&hellip

Read More...

THE ROBIN WHO WAS AN INDIAN HE name of Robin makes us think at once of the jolliest and most sociable of all our little brother birds. In every land the name is a favorite, and wherever he goes he brings happiness and kind feeling. The American Robin is not the same bird as his English cousin, though both have red breasts. It was in a different manner that our little American friend came to have the ruddy waistcoat which we know so well. There was a time, so the Indians say, a very early time, long, long before Columbus discovered America,—even before histories began to be written,—when there were no Robins. In those days in the land of the Ojibways, which is far in [&hellip

Read More...

THE WREN WHO BROUGHT FIRE ENTURIES and centuries ago, when men were first made, there was no such thing as fire known in all the world. Folk had no fire with which to cook their food, and so they were obliged to eat it raw; which was very unpleasant, as you may imagine! There were no cheery fireplaces about which to sit and tell stories, or make candy or pop corn. There was no light in the darkness at night except the sun and moon and stars. There were not even candles in those days, to say nothing of gas lamps or electric lights. It is strange to think of such a world where even the grown folks, like the children and the birds, had [&hellip

Read More...

HALCYONE HE story of the first Kingfisher is a sad one, and you need not read it unless for a very little while you wish to feel sorry. Long, long ago when the world was new, there lived a beautiful princess named Halcyone. She was the daughter of old Æolus, King of the Winds, and lived with him on his happy island, where it was his chief business to keep in order the four boisterous brothers, Boreas, the North Wind, Zephyrus, the West Wind, Auster, the South Wind, and Eurus, the East Wind. Sometimes, indeed, Æolus had a hard time of it; for the Winds would escape from his control and rush out upon the sea for their terrible games, which were sure to bring [&hellip

Read More...

KING OF THE BIRDS NCE upon a time, when the world was very new and when the birds had just learned from Mother Magpie how to build their nests, some one said, “We ought to have a king. Oh, we need a king of the birds very much!” For you see, already in the Garden of Birds trouble had begun. There were disputes every morning as to which was the earliest bird who was entitled to the worm. There were quarrels over the best places for nest-building and over the fattest bug or beetle; and there was no one to settle these difficulties. Moreover, the robber birds were growing too bold, and there was no one to rule and punish them. There was no doubt [&hellip

Read More...

  THE GORGEOUS GOLDFINCH HE Goldfinch who lives in Europe is one of the gaudiest of the little feathered brothers. He is a very Joseph of birds in his coat of many colors, and folk often wonder how he came to have feathers so much more gorgeous than his kindred. But after you have read this tale you will wonder no longer. You must know that when the Father first made all the birds they were dressed alike in plumage of sober gray. But this dull uniform pleased Him no more than it did the birds themselves, who begged that they might wear each the particular style which was most becoming, and by which they could be recognized afar. So the Father called the birds [&hellip

Read More...