The Bird House
THE BIRD HOUSE
by
Clem mason
(age-6-10)
(wc-1222)
Shining Water who was eight years of age became very excited when her father gave her the hollowed out gourd for a birdhouse.
“The hole is so small, father,” she said.
“It is so because only a wren will come into it,” he assured her.
“Oh, it is good father for of all the creatures near the village, it is the wren that I love the most”.
He nodded his approval, his eyes twinkling.
“I will put it up in a tree right away,” she said and ran from the tepee; her long black hair blowing behind her. At the edge of the village, she raced along the river, looking for a suitable tree to hold the bird house.
Little Hawk, who was many seasons older than Shining Water, saw her running and followed her into the stand of trees. He imagined he was tracking a fierce mountain lion; though he had never seen one before. When he caught up to her, he was somewhat disappointed because she didn’t offer him more of a challenge. She was climbing high up into a large oak tree.
“What are you doing?” he asked disgusted.
“Father has taken a gourd and made a house for a wren to live in. I will put it high up where they will be safe.”
He scoffed. “He is wasting the sun and you are no better. A worthy Osage has more to do than to make a house for a useless bird.”
Shining Water stopped to look down. Her eyes flashed fire. “My father is a brave warrior of many battles for many moons. He has served the tribe well.” With one push, she wedged the gourd into a fork in the tree and tied it firm with a leather lash. She leaned back to admire her effort. In a moment, she was back on the ground. She turned to Little Hawk to speak.
“I do not waste the sun, Little Hawk,” she said.
He threw his head back with a spiteful laugh. “This bird does not have enough meat for even you to eat, Shining Water,” he said angrily.
Shining Water snorted. “It is only your stomach you think about! I do not kill and eat my friends,” she said.
He growled. “They come and steal from our stores of grain. They are of no use to us.”
Shining Water hung her head. She knew this to be true. “But they eat very little”, she said softly.
‘I do not like the wild creatures coming into the village and taking from us. If I see your wren there, I will kill it with my sling,” he assured her.
‘It is sad the creatures do not have slings to use on you in return, Little Hawk”, she snapped. She stomped away.
As Little Hawk thought about this a moment, a smile visited his lips. It would be good sport if he could do battle with the enemy; the creatures, the Shawnee or the Kiowa.
Early one spring morning, Shining Water saw a wren taking small sticks and twigs into the gourd. She was very excited. They were building a nest and soon there would be little birds to feed and care for. And it was before the moon’s full cycle that she saw the parent wrens feeding their young. She quietly clapped her hands.
Very, very early one morning, before the sun was fully awake, she heard a strange sound from far away. It was a whirr then a click or a thunk. She lay, listening intently. Then the image formed in her head. The whirr was the winding of a sling and the thunk was a stone striking…
“My birdhouse”, she screamed,” and bolted from the tepee; waking her family with a start. They reared up just in time to see the flap of the tepee fall back into place.
She ran as fast as she dared in the dense fog. Suddenly, the fog parted and she saw Little Hawk winding his sling once more. She screamed just as he let it fly. Then the whole world went silent as a little bird fell from the tree, right at Little Hawk’s feet. She stood in stunned disbelief. Then a fit of rage consumed her and she bolted after Little Hawk. He did not want to face this angry girl, so he ran into the fog. Shining Water knew she could not catch him so she went back and picked up the lifeless little bird. She sat down by the trunk of the great oak and cried, absently stroking the feathers of her little friend.
Shining Water looked up when a gentle hand touched her shoulder. It was her father, Old Beaver. He looked very sad. He sat down beside her but made no words for a long time.
“I am very sorry this has come to be, Shining Water”, he said quietly
She sniffed. “Little Hawk…” She could say no more.
Old Beaver nodded. “It is unfortunate there are so many stones in the world. Now there is a law where you must eat what prey you kill. If you say, Little Hawk will be made to honor this law.
Shining Water looked up, her eyes wide in shock. “I can’t let him eat my friend,” she said.
“So be it:, he said.
Then her tear filled eyes narrowed. “Only if I can fill its belly with worms, leaches and snakes”.
A wide smile came to his face.
Find out what happens to Little Hawk when he is brought before the elders at the council fire.
…And what will become of the baby wrens and the birdhouse.
PAY PAGE:
Upon his return, the elders summoned Little Hawk to the council fire. Slowly, he made his way. On the rock lay the bird he had killed. He looked at it with much humiliation. Shining Water made faces at him and he looked away.
“Little Hawk, is this the creature killed by your hand”? Old Beaver asked with authority.
Slowly, he nodded his guilt. He knew it was grave injustice to lie to the elders.
“You know you must eat what you kill!”
Again he nodded and looked to become sick. His eyes bulged as he struggled to control his churning stomach. Suddenly, he bolted away, holding his mouth.
Everyone laughed, including Shining Water.
The burial was at the base of the great oak tree where the little bird fell. Shining Water dug a small hole and placed many stones on top of the grave site. Softly, she repeated the tribe’s burial chant.
When the ceremony was over, she wiped at her tears and went to stand by her father. When she reached to take his hand, she sobbed quietly. They stood silent a long time.
“I am still very angry with Little Hawk”, she admitted. “I have great fear for the baby birds,”
Old Beaver squeezed her hand, “Oh, my tender one, they will not be lost.”
“What do you mean?” she asked,
He looked up at the gourd, wedged in the tree. “The living parent will care for them.”
Just then, a little mother wren flew into the small hole.
Old Beaver pointed. “See there? Even now, she feeds her young.”
Shining Water was very pleased and excited.
THE END.
If you liked this story and you feel the poor, old author deserves compensation in his retirement for this creation, then please feel free to send $1.00 to Clem Mason, c/o Backwater Publishing. 66021-0213.
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