O
nce there was a little crow who lived in a nest deep in the woods. As the little crow grew, she discovered that there were very few like her.
nce there was a little crow who lived in a nest deep in the woods. As the little crow grew, she discovered that there were very few like her.The birds around her had wondrous variety of color on their heads and wings, backs and tails. The red-headed woodpecker tapped at the truck above her nest and the brightly colored blue jay and cardinal danced from branch to branch, resting on their springtime journey north. She extended her wing before her and looked down at her breast and saw only black feathers. She was black beak to tail.
Sitting dejected in her nest, she could hear the voices of the other birds. Most were gifted with many fine melodies by the Creator, and they sang of life’s glory with their lilting voices. The little crow opened her beak to try singing too, but only a course “Caw Caw” rose from her throat. Horrified, she snapped her beak shut and shuddered. This was no singing voice. She huddled deeper into her nest.
A silly mockingbird alighted on a nearby branch, and proudly demonstrated all the various mimicries she could do. This only made the little crow feel worse, and she turned her back on the mockingbird. She tucked her dark head under her wing, and let the wracking sobs choke through the pathetic coarse sounds in her throat.
A robin was passing over the treetops and heard the little crow’s cries. She dipped beneath the leafy canopy and pine boughs to find the little crow’s nest. “Why do you weep, little crow? It’s such a lovely day. Come, fly with me in the sunshine.”
The little crow peeked from under her wing with tear-filled eyes. “This day may be beautiful for one like you, but it isn’t for me.”
The robin cocked her head inquiringly and settled herself more securely on the nearby branch. “The sun shines for you as it does for me.”
“But what is there when the sun shines on me? I’m ugly! All the other birds have all these beautiful colors, but I am black from beak to tail.”
The robin chirped her laughter merrily, “Why, little crow, look at me. The males of my kind may have a prominent red breast, but I am brown like my sisters. I have no bright colors, but I still have something to contribute to this world.”
“Yeah,” cawed the crow, “you have that beautiful voice of yours. Listen to mine. I cannot sing like you.”
“You have something to share with this world too. The Creator had a plan for you when he made you. You just have to spread your wings and find it.”
The little crow hunkered down deeper into her nest. “I don’t think I can; there’s nothing to find.”
The robin sighed and spread her wings, fluttering off to find some worms for her meal. But she returned to the little crow’s side day after day, trying to coax her out of the nest.
Now what the little crow did not know is that many had taken interest in her. The pines and other trees spread their branches, protecting the little crow from the spring storms that rolled across the lands. They rocked their branches in the wind, trying to sing her soothing melodies and lullabies with their gently creaking boughs. But she would see and hear none of these. Why would the trees care about one little crow?
The woodland animals often listened to her mournful cries as she spoke with the robin and tried to think of some way to help. They called up to her nest asking her to come out. Some, like the chipmunk and squirrel, even climbed up the tree, sitting on a nearby branch to speak with her. When they left, she felt even more alone and refused to leave her nest.
At last the animals and the trees put their minds together and came up with a plan. They went to Coyote for help. Coyote wasn’t too pleased to be awoken from his nap, but when the trees and the animals collectively insisted, he stretched his lithe frame and said, “Show me where this little crow is.”
They led Coyote to the base of the tree and he sat on his haunches and called up, “Little crow, why are you still hiding in your nest?”
Surprised that he had come all this way just to speak with her, she peered over the brim of her nest. “There is no reason for me to come out.”
“Come with me, little crow, there is something I must show you.”
She hesitated, “No, you are just here to trick me. People say they care, but they really don’t.”
“Suit yourself, but you shall miss seeing one of the most remarkable sights in this land. There isn’t much time to see it, and I thought you would want to be there.” With these words, he rose up on all four paws and sauntered down the path.
Curious, she watched him as far as she could from the nest. Then with a quick look around her, she leapt from the nest and followed at a discrete distance, soaring from tree to tree with ease.
When he paused at the edge where the woods met a large open meadow, she landed on a nearby branch and called down. “Where is this remarkable sight? This is just a meadow.”
“Oh, it’s found in the meadow,” he replied, “but you need something magical to see it.”
“Oh?” She hopped down a few branches closer to him. “What?”
“Come closer, little crow, and I will show you.”
She hopped down a few more branches, a bit nervous to be so close to those sharp teeth. “What?” she repeated.
“This!” He leapt up and snapped at the little crow, causing her to fly up abruptly. When he landed on the ground Coyote held one of her black feathers in his teeth.
Horrified and shaken, she settled on the highest branches, knowing he could not get her there.
But he seemed to loose interest in her and, instead, trotted out to the center of the meadow. There he held the lone back feather up to the sky and smiled, gazing intently at it.
“Where is this remarkable sight?” she called out to him.
“I’m looking at it,” he replied. “Come and see.”
“All I see is my black feather; there is nothing remarkable in that.”
Coyote looked over at her with knowing eyes and then returned his gaze to the feather. “Come and see.”
She ruffled her feathers, still shaken by his earlier actions. But she had also heard legends about Coyote’s wisdom…. She hopped down to the lower branches and leaned forward, trying to decipher what he saw.
Her friend, the robin, alighted on the branch beside her. “What is he doing?” she wondered aloud.
Coyote smiled back at the robin, “I’m looking at one of the most remarkable sights in this land. Come and see it.”
The robin cocked her head curiously and fluttered down to the meadow. She timidly hopped over to his side and gazed up at the black feather. What she saw brought tears to her eyes and she just stood there, awestruck.
The little crow called out, “What do you see, friend robin?”
“It’s beautiful…. so beautiful….” was all that her friend could chirp.
Coyote smiled down at the robin and back to the little crow, beckoning her, “Come and see.”
She landed on the ground and little by little hopped her way apprehensively toward Coyote. She kept looking at the lone black feather he held aloft – a dark smudge against a perfectly blue sky. “I see nothing but my own black feather.”
“Come closer and see.”
Very anxious now, she hopped closer and closer; the feather became a larger and larger dark spot blotting out the sky. “I see nothing remarkable or beautiful here,” she cawed bitterly. “This is just a very cruel trick!”
“No it is not,” snapped Coyote, his patience gone. “Stand beside me and see.”
With a click of her beak, she stepped beside him and looked up at her feather. The bright sunlight shone around it as she moved into position, then Coyote turned the feather slightly.
Rainbows!
Countless shining rainbows sparkled gloriously through the feather. There were so many rainbows that she could no longer see the black of the feather. And all those remarkable colors danced before her eyes as the gentle breeze tickled the feather. “Beautiful!” she cawed, “More colors than I’ve seen on any other living thing….”
“That” he replied, “is what you have inside you. It can only be seen in the right light, but when it is seen, it shines as nothing else in this world. You may not believe you're beautiful on the outside, but the Creator placed something far more beautiful on the inside. You have many gifts within, words, images, stories, songs. Your voice may not sound the best to your own ears, but when you sing from your heart, it moves the hearts of others far more than even the eagle's cry or morning dove’s call.”
“Remember this.”
- ESA
A silly mockingbird alighted on a nearby branch, and proudly demonstrated all the various mimicries she could do. This only made the little crow feel worse, and she turned her back on the mockingbird. She tucked her dark head under her wing, and let the wracking sobs choke through the pathetic coarse sounds in her throat.
A robin was passing over the treetops and heard the little crow’s cries. She dipped beneath the leafy canopy and pine boughs to find the little crow’s nest. “Why do you weep, little crow? It’s such a lovely day. Come, fly with me in the sunshine.”
The little crow peeked from under her wing with tear-filled eyes. “This day may be beautiful for one like you, but it isn’t for me.”
The robin cocked her head inquiringly and settled herself more securely on the nearby branch. “The sun shines for you as it does for me.”
“But what is there when the sun shines on me? I’m ugly! All the other birds have all these beautiful colors, but I am black from beak to tail.”
The robin chirped her laughter merrily, “Why, little crow, look at me. The males of my kind may have a prominent red breast, but I am brown like my sisters. I have no bright colors, but I still have something to contribute to this world.”
“Yeah,” cawed the crow, “you have that beautiful voice of yours. Listen to mine. I cannot sing like you.”
“You have something to share with this world too. The Creator had a plan for you when he made you. You just have to spread your wings and find it.”
The little crow hunkered down deeper into her nest. “I don’t think I can; there’s nothing to find.”
The robin sighed and spread her wings, fluttering off to find some worms for her meal. But she returned to the little crow’s side day after day, trying to coax her out of the nest.
Now what the little crow did not know is that many had taken interest in her. The pines and other trees spread their branches, protecting the little crow from the spring storms that rolled across the lands. They rocked their branches in the wind, trying to sing her soothing melodies and lullabies with their gently creaking boughs. But she would see and hear none of these. Why would the trees care about one little crow?
The woodland animals often listened to her mournful cries as she spoke with the robin and tried to think of some way to help. They called up to her nest asking her to come out. Some, like the chipmunk and squirrel, even climbed up the tree, sitting on a nearby branch to speak with her. When they left, she felt even more alone and refused to leave her nest.
At last the animals and the trees put their minds together and came up with a plan. They went to Coyote for help. Coyote wasn’t too pleased to be awoken from his nap, but when the trees and the animals collectively insisted, he stretched his lithe frame and said, “Show me where this little crow is.”
They led Coyote to the base of the tree and he sat on his haunches and called up, “Little crow, why are you still hiding in your nest?”
Surprised that he had come all this way just to speak with her, she peered over the brim of her nest. “There is no reason for me to come out.”
“Come with me, little crow, there is something I must show you.”
She hesitated, “No, you are just here to trick me. People say they care, but they really don’t.”
“Suit yourself, but you shall miss seeing one of the most remarkable sights in this land. There isn’t much time to see it, and I thought you would want to be there.” With these words, he rose up on all four paws and sauntered down the path.
Curious, she watched him as far as she could from the nest. Then with a quick look around her, she leapt from the nest and followed at a discrete distance, soaring from tree to tree with ease.
When he paused at the edge where the woods met a large open meadow, she landed on a nearby branch and called down. “Where is this remarkable sight? This is just a meadow.”
“Oh, it’s found in the meadow,” he replied, “but you need something magical to see it.”
“Oh?” She hopped down a few branches closer to him. “What?”
“Come closer, little crow, and I will show you.”
She hopped down a few more branches, a bit nervous to be so close to those sharp teeth. “What?” she repeated.
“This!” He leapt up and snapped at the little crow, causing her to fly up abruptly. When he landed on the ground Coyote held one of her black feathers in his teeth.
Horrified and shaken, she settled on the highest branches, knowing he could not get her there.
But he seemed to loose interest in her and, instead, trotted out to the center of the meadow. There he held the lone back feather up to the sky and smiled, gazing intently at it. “Where is this remarkable sight?” she called out to him.
“I’m looking at it,” he replied. “Come and see.”
“All I see is my black feather; there is nothing remarkable in that.”
Coyote looked over at her with knowing eyes and then returned his gaze to the feather. “Come and see.”
She ruffled her feathers, still shaken by his earlier actions. But she had also heard legends about Coyote’s wisdom…. She hopped down to the lower branches and leaned forward, trying to decipher what he saw.
Her friend, the robin, alighted on the branch beside her. “What is he doing?” she wondered aloud.
Coyote smiled back at the robin, “I’m looking at one of the most remarkable sights in this land. Come and see it.”
The robin cocked her head curiously and fluttered down to the meadow. She timidly hopped over to his side and gazed up at the black feather. What she saw brought tears to her eyes and she just stood there, awestruck.
The little crow called out, “What do you see, friend robin?”
“It’s beautiful…. so beautiful….” was all that her friend could chirp.
Coyote smiled down at the robin and back to the little crow, beckoning her, “Come and see.”
She landed on the ground and little by little hopped her way apprehensively toward Coyote. She kept looking at the lone black feather he held aloft – a dark smudge against a perfectly blue sky. “I see nothing but my own black feather.”
“Come closer and see.”
Very anxious now, she hopped closer and closer; the feather became a larger and larger dark spot blotting out the sky. “I see nothing remarkable or beautiful here,” she cawed bitterly. “This is just a very cruel trick!”
“No it is not,” snapped Coyote, his patience gone. “Stand beside me and see.”
With a click of her beak, she stepped beside him and looked up at her feather. The bright sunlight shone around it as she moved into position, then Coyote turned the feather slightly.
Rainbows!
Countless shining rainbows sparkled gloriously through the feather. There were so many rainbows that she could no longer see the black of the feather. And all those remarkable colors danced before her eyes as the gentle breeze tickled the feather. “Beautiful!” she cawed, “More colors than I’ve seen on any other living thing….”
“That” he replied, “is what you have inside you. It can only be seen in the right light, but when it is seen, it shines as nothing else in this world. You may not believe you're beautiful on the outside, but the Creator placed something far more beautiful on the inside. You have many gifts within, words, images, stories, songs. Your voice may not sound the best to your own ears, but when you sing from your heart, it moves the hearts of others far more than even the eagle's cry or morning dove’s call.”
“Remember this.”
- ESA
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