The Tale of the Crossbill

Avis May Herrick, Hamilton County, NY, April 1932

 

Far, far away

in an ancient land, among the last patches of forests, which still stood above the encroaching desert, there was a small grove of ancient trees. This grove had once been part of a mighty forest, which had stood for as long as anyone could remember. But as the countryside dried and the rain no longer came, the forest dwindled down until only along the streams or on the hills did it remain. In this one little grove, there had lived for many generations a small flock of birds. These birds were small, a little larger than a sparrow, and they were white as the snow in winter. There was, however, nothing unusual about these birds. Year after year they built their nests, hatched their eggs and raised their young. The young were fledged, and the story repeated. The birds saw their forests shrink in the sweltering heat, but thought little about it. Inside the forest it was still cool. The streams although fewer than before, still trickled away. Only occasionally, one of the young birds would get alarmed by this or that, only to be reassured by caring parents. 

 

One day a man came into the grove to rest after a long journey in the desert. Few men ever passed this way, and so the all the birds were very excited. Who was this man? Why was he alone in the desert? What was he doing? The birds watched the man while he slept. They flew from branch to branch twittering among themselves. During the night the birds couldn't sleep. The man below, in deep sleep, seemed to be somehow unusual, somehow different. 

 

In the morning, the man woke. He kneeled at the stream and took a long drink from his cupped hands. Then raising his gaze to the sun shimmering through the forest boughs, he saw the little white birds scampering about. He smiled. He reached into his pocket and took out some bread. He scattered it on the forest floor, and the little birds were very happy as they scampered about. Food was not always easy to find in the shrinking forest, so these crumbs were very welcome. The man held out his hand with some small pieces of bread in his palm. A brave young bird flew into his hand, and the man smiled again. A morning of simple and pure joy was shared by man and bird alike.

 

As the sun rose to high noon, the man gathered his blanket and his other few things. Before he left, he said softly to the birds, --Eat well my little friends, for the times that come will be hard. When hunger comes, and it will, think of this quiet, beautiful moment that we had together, and your hunger will be quelled. The he left and entered once more into the desert.

 

The birds were very happy and for once their little stomachs were full to busting, and that night they all slept well. For many months they lived in peace in their grove and all was well.

 

Then one night a fierce desert storm blew in. Thunder roared and lightning crackled in the air, but their was no rain. The birds all huddled together scared of the mighty flashes and the booming echoes. Suddenly a terrific bolt of light sped from the heavens to the edge of the glade. The forest, parched after the long summer, was suddenly ablaze. Flames ran like wilds ghosts in all directions. The birds flew in all directions to escape the mounting inferno.

 

In the morning light, only smoking stumps and ashes remained. The birds had escaped the flames, but their forest home in which they and their families had lived for so many generations, was now gone. What would they do? Where could they go? They must now cross the desert and look for a new forest.

 

They huddled in the shadow of a rock while the sun blazed down. Finally as the evening came, they flew toward the east in the cool air. They flew all evening and into the morning until it got too hot. Then again they rested in the shade. Day after day they flew but only rock and sand greeted them. They were very tired and very hungry. However, everyday they remembered the visit by the man, and they remembered his kindness. Somehow these good memories gave them strength to continue, and on they went.

 

Finally one day, they came to a great village. They were tired and very hungry. They were able to steal a few scraps left at the market place. Although it was midday, the market was empty. Where were all the people? The birds flew up onto the tower of a great temple.  They saw a far distant hill where all the people had gathered. On top of the hill, were three large figures, but it was too far, and the birds couldn't make them out.

 

They decided to fly to the hill to see what was happening. At least when they arrived, they could find some crumbs with so many people about. When they got closer they could see the large figures on the hill. They were crosses. How strange! And there were people on them. As they flew over the crowd, everybody was screaming and shouting. Chaos seemed to be everywhere. The birds became very scared and were about to fly away. When suddenly one of the young birds stopped. What was it? It was the man, the man from the forest. The other birds now recognised him. What was happening? How could this be? 

 

The birds flew about and called among themselves. This man had helped them, they must do something. What could they do? Then the one young bird, who before took the crumbs from the man's hand, saw again that same palm where the bread had been. It was now red and there was a large nail. He flew again to the open palm. He grabbed the nail in his beak and pulled and pulled. The others seeing the example followed. The people laughed at the silly birds and the silly man. Some people cried.

 

Soon the little white birds were covered with blood as they tried to pull the nails from the man's hand. Still they pulled and pulled with all their might. Their beaks became twisted and bent. And still they pulled. Then the man looked up and saw the little birds. He softly said to them, --My little friends, I see your efforts and they will never be forgotten. While many greater beings have mocked me today, you, so small and weak, have given me hope in this the darkest moment. Go now and live free. The man smiled for the last time.

 

Soon the day grew as dark as night. Again a storm. The birds flew in panic. What was happening? A wind, a great wind. It blew from the south hot and dry. All was black. Below them a black sea. They could not fly against the wind, they could only follow. The south wind blew and blew. North the birds went. After a long time in the heart of the storm, the wind suddenly stopped. As fast as it came the great storm ended. The birds finally could see below them to a land of vast forests. The trees below full of cones and seeds.

 

The exhausted flock landed in the treetops. They looked at each other. They couldn't believe what they saw. Gone were the plain, little white birds. In their place were handsome, bright red birds with crooked bills. After a long journey, they had found their new home, and there they lived happily in the great northern forests forever more.