The Fable of the Blackbird by Barry J. Northern A blackbird and his new wife flew across the fields searching for a good hedgerow in which to make their home. Long did they search for just the right spot, for it was their first year as yellow-beaks, and they had never before built a nest of their own. "How about the thick ivy upon this tree my love?" said Husband. "Too small," said Wife. "What of this hawthorn. It looks good." "It is too tall, what if our eggs should fall?" They searched the hedgerows for two more days until they found a large, low holly bush. Husband's wings were tired, but he was glad to see his new wife so pleased, for she said it was perfect, and that it would be their home for the rest of their lives. Now it was time for them to build a proper nest for their first clutch, and so, as is the way with blackbirds, Wife set about building the nest while Husband fetched the straw. "Husband, do not take the straw from this field, for it is poor. Fly away to the yellow field yonder, for the straw there will make a perfect house, strong and warm." Husband puffed his chest and warbled. "I will fetch the yellow straw, Wife, to make us a proud home." All day Husband flew to the yellow field and back to collect the best straw, and as the sun grew big and low in the reddening sky, Wife yawned and said to Husband. "Away to the yellow field but once more my love, for our perfect home is almost done." Husband flew away with a silent yawn, and aching wings. He hung his head, seeing the straw in the field beneath him, and so thought to himself. "Why must I fly yonder to the yellow field when there is straw all about?" He landed amongst the poor straw. "Wife is right," he thought. "This straw is poor, for it feels weak beneath my feet, but I am tired and it will do. After all, our nest is almost finished." He flew back to the nest, and there found his wife near sleep. "Here is some straw, my Love." "It is not the yellow straw?" "No, for I am tired." "As am I, my love. This straw will do then." And so she stuffed the poor straw among the good. Before many days had passed, Wife sat proudly upon their first clutch. But soon the March Winds blew, and Wife said. "It is too cold for our clutch, my love. Can you not fly and find more yellow straw?" Now Husband was rested, and he was glad to fetch more yellow straw, but as he alighted from the edge of the nest the poor straw collapsed beneath his feet, and though they worked fast to stop it, the whole nest fell apart, scattering their first clutch within the holly bush. Now the pair had chosen the bush well, and so not a single egg was broken, and each one lay safe within the bush. But it cost the pair much effort to fetch out the yellow straw and their eggs, and yet more hard work to collect more yellow straw from the far field, and to build a second nest, before they could carry each egg safely to it. Now blackbirds venture not to the sea, and so, of course, they have never heard this old proverb. "Don't spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar." The Fable of the Blackbird by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive download the MP3 here Music by Eileen Hadidian and Natalie Cox from the album, Dolce Musica - A Contemplative Journey, track 3 "The Blackbird (Irish Traditional)", and provided by

The Fable of the Orang-utan by Barry J. Northern Deep in the jungle, a family of young orang-utans played in the trees around their wise old father, who was content to sit and watch from his nest in the branches. Old Man's youngest son stopped by the nest while his brothers played on. He was in high spirits, and said to his father. "Oh, this playing is fun, Father, but I might stop now." "Why stop?" said Old Man, "The day is yet young, and the weather is fine." "Oh, it will be fine tomorrow too. I can play then." Old Man laughed. "Young one, there is a saying 'don't count your chickens before they are hatched', which means don't count on fine weather tomorrow before tomorrow comes. Go now and play."And so Young One laughed and swung off to join his brothers. Now Old Man's eldest son had overheard this, and so he also stopped by the nest, and said to his father. "I have heard all your sayings, Father. I too am wise, see." And so Eldest Son swung among his brothers, dispensing advice. Young One was about to swing onto a branch that Eldest Son saw was too thin, and so he shouted, "Look before you leap!" Then after a time the games of the middle brothers became too rough, for they were trying to hit one another with sticks, and so Eldest Son cried out, saying,"He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword!" Then he spotted Young One again, who had found a branch of figs, and was throwing away the small ones to get to the large. "Waste not want not, Young One!" Now as Eldest Son swung about the tree like this, Old Man chuckled. Eldest Son heard him, and his heart filled with pride, for it must surely mean that his father was pleased with him. And so he swung about correcting his brothers all afternoon. Purple evening benighted the jungle, and Eldest Son thought to himself. "It will soon be bedtime, but I am grown now, why should I share a nest with my brothers?" And so he set about gathering leaves for his own nest. His brothers saw him at work, and asked him what he was doing. They were upset to learn he no longer wished to share their nest, yet they loved their brother, and though they did not understand why he wished to be apart from them, they offered to help him make his own nest, for the jungle nights draw in fast. But he would not accept their help, saying only, "Too many cooks spoil the broth." When night came, his brothers were all asleep, and yet Eldest Son's nest was still not finished, for he was used to making bed with his brothers. Old Man came to him then and asked what he was doing. "It is time for me to have a nest of my own, Father." "I see. But why did you not accept your brothers' help, for you would surely be finished by now if you had." "But, Father, do you not say, 'Too many cooks spoil the broth'?" "Ah yes, but don't I also say, 'Many hands make light work'? Even so, I can understand why a young man would want to build his first nest himself. Why though did you begin building so late?" "As you say, father. 'Don't put of tomorrow what you can do today'." "Ah, but do I not also say, 'Look before you leap'?" "But I know these things!" said Eldest Son, and then became sullen. Old Man only smiled. "You must learn not to take my sayings so literally my son, for they are only a guide, and talk is cheap. You must find your own way in the world, and learn life's lessons as best you can. Sometimes the hard way is the only way." "I think I will never understand, father." "Ah, so now you can see you know less than you once thought. That is the start of wisdom, Eldest Son. But I cannot leave you now without one last saying, for as you know, I am rather fond of them." Old Man's chuckle made Eldest Son laugh. "What is it father?" Old Man clapped his son on the shoulder. "This is a truth I think you have learnt today, son. 'There's a difference between knowing the path, and walking the path.'” The Fable of the Orang-utan by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive download the MP3 here Music by Solace from the album, The Gathering Season, track 11 "Sudan", and provided by