The Fable of the Pigeon by Barry J. Northern A young pigeon, not long out of the nest, squabbled among his fellows around the legs of one of the wingless giants who sat upon the strange wooden bush at this time every day. His father stayed close to him. “Look Fletch, this here giant is dropping bits of giant food already, good as grain that stuff. Oh, he'll fling us his scraps at the end, but you wanna watch out for anything you can get.” His father laughed at the older pigeons at the front of the crowd, fighting for scraps. “Look at em go. That's the way!” “But, Dad?” “Yes, my son?” “Can't I just have grain mash? You've still got crop milk. I like it with a bit of crop milk.” “Look son, I told you already, you're off the milk now. It'll dry up soon anyhow.” “What about Mum?” “She's got your brother to worry about. Look, you're not a squab any more.” His beady red eye darted ahead of a sharp-turned neck. “Look out! He's dropping scraps! Go on, get in there my son.” Fletch, wanting to impress his father, pushed his way in. Everyone said Fletch was big for his age, and he was pleased that he had weight enough to force through the crowd of adults and defend his own patch. There were grains among the fluffy giant-food. He picked at them, they were delicious but few. He tried one of the giant's fluffy grains. “Ergh!” He spat it out. In his moment of disgust he lost his place and was forced to the back of the crowd. “What happened, boy?” “Those fluffy grains are horrible, Dad. There were hardly any proper grains, you know, like the ones you and Mum give me.” “Son, if you live long enough to have squabs of your own, you'll wanna rear em on the best pickings. But you gotta learn to take what you can get now, lad. You're on your own.” And with that he flew into the mêlée and pecked at the floor with gusto. Fletch flew around the green square of woodland for a while, not daring to venture into the giant's cliffs that surrounded it. He searched for good grain, but found little, and after several days he was so hungry that the next time the giant sat upon his wooden bush, Fletch was the first at his feet. “Beggars can't be choosers.” The Fable of the Pigeon 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 MP3here. Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Guitarscapes, track 5 Reality Check, and provided by magnatune.com