Once upon a time, many many moons
ago, the Creator molded a bird. This bird was one of prey. Its
sharp talons were perfect for hunting. It's eyes held endless
wisdom, and he had a mask that enveloped his face giving him a
look of suspicion. "Finished!" The Creator thought to
himself, then he gave the bird the spirit of life. "You shall
be called the Owl!" He said happily, but he had forgotten
to give poor Owl a voice. Owl took off into the endless ocean
of sky. Old clouds lazily drifted past him and new clouds embarked
on their journey through the vast open sky. Owl lowered closer
to the ground. He could see other birds clustered together on
a low hanging branch of an oak tree. They were singing, whistling,
and humming in one huge chorus. Owl tried to open his mouth to
sing along, but all that came out was a low croak. Aghast, Owl
gulped and tried again. "CROAK!" He nearly shouted.
Several animals turned to look at this strange new animal, but
soon lost interest. "Oh! What on earth can I do?" Owl
thought miserably. He decided to approach the Creator to plead
for a voice. He pumped his wings, very determined. Finally he
arrived back at the Creators wig-wam. Owl strutted through the
door to the Creator who was busily carving another creation.
The Creator looked up. "Yes?" he asked.
"Croak!" Owl said in a helpless tone to try to get his
message across. The Creator frowned. He put down his work and
picked up a basket of berries. The Creator handed Owl one of the
berries. As Owl chewed, the look on his face became more and more
comical. His beak twitched and his eyes bulged as he chewed on
the berry. "This berry is sour!" he said, then gasped
in surprise. He had just talked!
The Creator smiled, "Go along now!"
"Yes!" Owl replied "Oh yes! Oh Yes!" Then
he flew out the door singing whistling, and humming happily. "This
is so wonderful." Owl thought to himself as he soared. He
swooped low until a cluster of birds was in his view. "Ah!"
Owl thought, "My first chance to sing along with the other
winged ones." Owl opened his mouth and let forth a beautiful
song. All the birds stopped to listen except for one who boldly
flew toward Owl and rudely interrupted his song.
"What are you doing?" The bird asked angrily.
"Singing," Owl replied tartly, puffing out his chest.
"Well you just happen to be singing my song!" The other
bird answered furiously.
Owl gasped, "'Oh no!" He cried. "The Creator has
given me the wrong voice. The other bird stuck his beak in the
air with triumph as poor Owl flew toward the setting sun. Finally,
after a long time of flying, Owl reappeared at the Creators wig-wam.
The Creator was busy building a fire so he wouldn't be cold, for
the moon of popping trees had just begun.
"Hello my friend!" The Creator boomed. "What troubles
you?"
"You have given me the wrong voice. I'm so sorry to disturb
you but this is important to me." The Creator nodded thoughtfully.
"I have just the thing for you!'' The Creator said as he
pushed aside the brown bear skin he had been squatting on. He
picked up a basket plum full of berries. The creator handed Owl
a berry. Owl savored the taste, it was much sweeter then the first
one and it slid contentedly down Owl's throat. Owl tried out his
new voice. It wasn't as glorious as the first voice but Owl was
still pleased. Once again, he thanked the Creator and flew happily
out the door.
He dove and swirled and turned circles in the air. Owl then perched
on a branch of a sycamore tree. He was completely worn out. Suddenly,
a group of birds gathered round him and started to sing. Owl listened
for one second and then turned pale. Once again, he had a different
bird's voice. He silently took off into the night air, and swiftly
made his way back to the Creators wig wam. Finally, Owl pushed
through the deer skin flap. The Creator looked up.
" What is it my son?" the Creator sighed.
Owl replied calmly, "I would like my own voice, something
no creature has ever heard, something unique, and original. The
Creator nodded and set to work searching the many reed baskets
for the correct voice. Finally, the Creator smiled as he carefully
picked something up. A golden berry. He handed it to Owl who swallowed
it. The golden berry had been tasteless. Owl thanked the Creator
then flew to a nearby evergreen tree. He quietly sang to himself.
His song was modest and was more talkative than musical. It wasn't
at all glorious like his first voice, or pretty like his second
voice, but Owl loved it all the same. For it was his.
Da
Neho