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