How the African Grey Got its Red Tail

Peta

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Once there was a forest of many colors. The trees were green. They were gold and orange. They were yellow and red in their season. In the fawning time the trees bloomed. They were hung with ropes of flowers! They were green altars garlanded with color! The smell of the flowers was a prayer to heaven.
The flowers were many colors, too. They were white and apricot. They were pink and plum. They were blue and yellow and purple and bronze. The flowers were courted by bees. They came in colors, too. They were yellow and black; fuzzy and brown.

Spiders sat in the flowers and waited for the bees. They were even more colorful than the flowers! Some spiders had eight bright green eyes each! Some had blue eyes. They wore fine suits of many colors and striped stockings on their eight legs.
Butterflies came to drink from the flowers with their long tongues. Yellow butterflies drank from blue morning glories. Blue butterflies drank from red hibiscus. Giant green moths flew about in crowds, gathering for a dance. All the butterflies carried the rainbow with them all through the forest.
After the bees had visited the flowers the trees made fruit. Clusters and clusters of fruits hung on the trees. Purple it hung, and red. Yellow and orange. And palest green blushed with pink. Soon the forest smelled of too-ripe fruit. Then the flies came. Flies flew from tree to tree carrying blue and green with them.
Over the forest the sky stretched. It was a blue cloth with a yellow circle. At night it was an azure box full of diamonds! But the most colorful thing in the forest was its birds. Bright among the branches they sang. Living dots of color they climbed. Shimmering pallets of nature they flew among the shadows. The birds had all the colors of the trees. They had all the colors of the flowers, too. They had all the colors of the bees, the butterflies, and the spiders. And God was very pleased with His creation when He watched His birds twirling below. God loved His living top spinning in the forest He had made.
But a Little Gray Parrot lived in the forest. She alone had no color. Even the gray doves had bright red feet! But the Little Gray Parrot had gray feet. Her beak was gray, and her wings were gray. All her feathers were gray, too.
One day the Little Gray Parrot looked out of her gray eyes at all the colors spread in the forest below. She looked up at the blue sky, pale and dark. And she thought, "I am the only one in the whole forest that has no color. God is pleased by the prayers of the fruiting trees. He is pleased by the beautiful butterflies and bees. How can I ever give Him anything if I have no color?"
The Little Gray Parrot thought about it all day. She dreamed about it all night. She was still thinking about it the next morning when the Jungle Bird woke her up.
"The Jungle Bird is very beautiful," said the Little Gray Parrot. "He wears a green shawl over his red velvet vest. He wears gold buttons and sharp orange lace-up boots. I will go to him and ask him to give me some of his color." And the Little Gray Parrot got her little red wagon. "I will put all the colors he gives me in my wagon and bring them home," she said. "Then I will be so beautiful heaven will notice me!"
So the Little Gray Parrot started walking toward the sound of the Jungle Bird who was still singing to the sun. She pulled her little red wagon behind her through the forest.
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Soon she came to a tree stump. The Jungle Bird was standing on the stump calling to his brother in the sky. He stamped his orange feet on his stage and rose up very tall. He called so loud his shiny red wattles shook. He opened his yellow eyes very wide, and crowed. Wrapped in his cloak of black, purple, green and gold he sang, "I! Me, me, me, I! I! Me, me, me, I!"
When the Jungle Bird stopped singing the Little Gray Parrot said, "Jungle Bird, you sing a very beautiful song. You have the color of the sky in your tail. The soles of your feet shine like the sun. Your red head glistens with the warm color. Your throat is wrapped in green. I am a very plain parrot. Please give me some of your colors so I can be beautiful, too."
But the Jungle Bird only rose up on his long orange toes. He opened his yellow beak tipped with black. And he sang, "I! Me, me, me, I! I! Me, me, me, I!"
The Little Gray Parrot stamped her small gray foot. But the Jungle Bird continued to sing his song to the sun. Finally, the Jungle Bird shook his head to rearrange his wattles and jumped down from his perch. The Little Gray Parrot fluffed her gray feathers. She said, "Jungle Bird. You sing a very conceited song."
The Jungle Bird preened a blue feather in his tail. Then he preened a green one. Then a bronze. Finally he answered the Little Gray Parrot. "Do you think so?" was all he said.
"Yes," said the Little Gray Parrot. "For you are singing about yourself."
The Jungle Bird walked to the Little Gray Parrot. He circled her and looked at her empty wagon. He pecked on the wagon. It rang like a cymbal. He stood very tall and near to the Little Gray Parrot, and she began to regret her words.
But the Jungle Bird was a king in his realm, and he simply said, "Little Gray Parrot, my song is about me. I wake the sun up every morning so it will shine on men. I sing about my place on the earth. I remind man of his place, too. We are all so high. If man knew his own worth, the forest would be full of my song every morning! Every throat would cry out, singing my song."
The Little Gray Parrot looked at the Jungle Bird. She knew what he said was true. The Little Gray Parrot bowed her head and said, "Jungle Bird, everyone says how beautiful you are. And it is true. Your brilliant tail sweeps the ground mixing the rainbow with dust. But, your true beauty is in reminding man that he is not dust. You rise while it is yet dark to do this service. Please forgive me."
The Jungle Bird clucked slightly in his throat and said, "I have promised my hens some grubs today, so I must go." And he left. Mother’s green arms embraced him, and he was gone. The Little Parrot said, "I came to beg some beautiful colors from the Jungle Bird to take home. But his true beauty is in his service. I will put that in my wagon instead." And she did, and pulled the little red wagon behind her down the path.
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The Little Gray Parrot made quite a sound pulling her red wagon through the dry leaves! From high up in the trees the Scarlet Parrot looked down to see what all the noise was about. "Hello!" he called. Then he mimicked the wagon wheels. And he made the sound of the crunching leaves. He was so clever the Little Gray Parrot stopped on the path. She listened carefully for her echo. But she heard nothing. As soon as she started to pull her red wagon again, she heard the Scarlet Parrot mocking her high up in the trees.
"Scarlet Parrot! I was looking for you," said the Little Gray Parrot. "You are very beautiful. Your color is of fire, red and gold, yellow and brightness! Your eyes are ringed in silver, and your wings are cobalt arrows! Please, may I have some of your colors? Then I will be beautiful, too."
But the Scarlet Parrot simply mimicked the monkey jabbering in the tree. He babbled like the brook, and roared like a chainsaw! He sang like all the birds, at once! He barked like a dog and growled like a tiger!
The Little Gray Parrot stamped her small gray foot. "You are very rude," she said. "Why do you make such a fuss, and repeat everything you hear? What good is that?"
But the Scarlet Parrot laughed like a girl child. He cried like a piglet. Finally he said, "I record everything in the forest. Man must work hard all day and night. He does not have time to listen to the birds singing. He does not have time to remember what dangers lie here. I record all these things for the time man will ask me for them. When he is sad, I will sing like the nightingale–even at noon! When he is careless, I will speak in the tiger’s tongue to make him wary."
The Little Gray Parrot hung her head. She felt ashamed for her words, and said, "You are right, Scarlet Parrot. You are the most beautiful of all parrots. But your true beauty is in being a storehouse of knowledge. I came to ask you for some of your colors, but I will put your wisdom in my red wagon instead." And the Little Gray Parrot did, and walked on through the forest.
Of a sudden the Little Gray Parrot heard a bird talking like a clock. "Cuckoo!" he said. "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" The Little Gray Parrot stopped to listen. She stood beneath the green umbrella of a palm. She turned her gray eyes to the blue sky. She searched among and between the green leaves and their gray/black shadows. Finally the Little Gray Parrot found a bright black and white bird shining in the shadows. The Little Gray Parrot sat on the edge of her red wagon and admired him for a full minute. Then she raised her wing politely...


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"Cuckoo Bird," she said, "Why are you so happy today, filling the trees with noon and dinner songs?" The Cuckoo Bird closed his beak and hopped to a branch an inch from the Little Gray Parrot’s gray beak, and said, "I am very happy. I have five new babies, all fat and healthy, and I am going on a vacation tomorrow."The Little Gray Parrot looked into the eye of the father Cuckoo Bird. He did not look tired. He looked well rested and full of life, so the Little Gray Parrot said, "Your babies must be very good indeed! You have slept well lately, and your breast feathers are sleek and smooth. You would hardly know you have five babies to take care of. You must be very proud!"
The father Cuckoo Bird replied, "Oh, I am very proud! They are all so beautiful, and so big each one fills a whole nest!" The Little Gray Parrot was astounded. "Every baby has his own nest?" she asked. She remembered when she was small she had warm brothers and sisters around her like a blanket. "How wonderful," said the Little Gray Parrot. "Can I see your babies?"

The Cuckoo Bird puffed up with pride, "Oh surely," he said, "Here is one above us in this tree. And the others are scattered like leaves throughout the forest."
The Little Gray Parrot looked high up in the tree. In a crooked crotch she saw a neat, small nest nestled against the black bark. A big chick spilled over the edges of the nest. His mouth gaped open, red and yellow like a flower. He demanded food loudly, and soon a small Yellow Wren flew to him and stuffed his beak with worms and bugs. The Little Gray Parrot could hardly believe her eyes, for this was the very Yellow Wren she was looking for to ask for her color!
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The Yellow Wren flew away but soon came back. Again the Yellow Wren stuffed the young cuckoo with food. The Yellow Wren did this several times and the Little Gray Parrot watched in amazement. Finally the Little Gray Parrot said, "Cuckoo Bird, why does someone else feed your baby? Why don’t you feed him?"
"What a stupid question!" said the Cuckoo Bird. "I’m going on vacation tomorrow!" And he flew away.
The Little Gray Parrot was amazed! When the Yellow Wren came back the Little Gray Parrot called out to her, "Yellow Wren! Yellow Wren! May I ask you a question?"
The Yellow Wren first fed the young cuckoo, then flew down and sat on a springy shrub close to the Little Gray Parrot. "You must be quick," she said. "As you see, I have a baby to feed and cannot talk long."
"I see you are feeding the Cuckoo Bird’s baby," said the Little Gray Parrot. "I came all this way through the forest to ask you for some of your beautiful yellow color, but now you are tired. Your feathers don’t shine like they used to. You used to be a spot of sun on a leaf, but now you are dull and used. Why do you spend all your energy feeding the Cuckoo Bird’s baby until you are no longer beautiful? Don’t you think that is a stupid thing to do?"
The Yellow Wren looked long at the Little Gray Parrot. The Little Gray Parrot began to regret her words. Then the Yellow Wren lit on the ground beside the Little Gray Parrot. She smiled at the Little Gray Parrot an old, earth-worn smile and said, "Little Gray Parrot. What is in my nest is mine. When a baby cries for food I cannot be deaf. It is life calling to me. If I do not answer I have taken the bony hand of death into my own. We walk through the forest and only dry, spent leaves are in our path. I will not befriend him. Any life that comes to me I will preserve. I am often second in my own life. But in this, first in the earth. Do you understand?"
The Little Gray Parrot hung her head, and then looked at the Yellow Wren from her bright gray eye. "I do understand," she whispered, "I think you must be the smartest bird in all the forest! You give life, and that is the greatest thing on all the earth! You are a Mother, and love with a mother’s heart. This is your true beauty, more radiant than yellow feathers. Your heart is yellow and warm as the sun. I will put this in my red wagon instead of a yellow feather." And she did.
The young cuckoo began calling again for the Yellow Wren, and she kissed the Little Gray Parrot on the tip of her gray beak and flew away. The Little Gray Parrot watched her fly to her baby and again pulled her red wagon through the forest.
"I only have one more bird to find," said the Little Gray Parrot. "But he is the most beautiful of all!" And the Little Gray Parrot went into the deepest shade of the forest, for that is where the Peacock lived.
The Little Gray Parrot pulled her red wagon through the quiet darkness. She tugged and tugged it over tangles of roots and fallen branches. Soon the Little Gray Parrot was tired and stopped to rest. She sat on a fallen log and admired the green museum walls around her. Her gray eyes fell on Monet and Manet, and Van Gogh hiding in a corner painting daisies.
Of a sudden the Little Gray Parrot heard a loud voice booming through the trees. "Ku-wow! Ku-wow! Ku-wow!" it said. It sang like Big Ben, it rang like Liberty!

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The Little Gray Parrot was very pleased. This was the voice of the Peacock, and she followed his song along a crooked path until she found him sitting in a flowering tree.
How beautiful the Peacock was! His neck was like the sky, and it shimmered like water! On his head he wore a crown that bobbed around on long stalks growing from his brow. And his tail was made of thousands of green, blue and golden eyes, each looking in a different part of the forest. And when the Peacock danced his tail rustled like a bride’s dress, and all her ladies’ together! Surely the Peacock could spare a feather for the Little Gray Parrot to make God happy.

Soon the Peacock jumped down from his perch. He gathered the ball-gown of his tail around himself, and began to tap his yellow feet lightly. Dust rose around his yellow ankles, and dry leaves too. In figure eights the Peacock danced, life on the parched earth. Green like Mother he was, and Blue like Father too, mixing the two worlds.
The Little Gray Parrot watched the Peacock for a while feeling something akin to envy. Then she said, "Peacock! How beautiful you dance!" The Peacock stopped his stamping on the ground and looked at the Little Gray Parrot. "Thank you," he said, and resumed his dancing. Dust sprang up from the ground and mingled gold and green, and the Peacock danced and danced.
The Little Gray Parrot was bewildered. "Peacock," she said, "I do not understand. People say you dance a beautiful dance when you are thankful for the rain."
The Peacock bobbed his head beneath his crown. "Yes," he said, "I am thankful for the rain." The Peacock circled the Little Gray Parrot. He dropped one gold wingtip into the dust and drummed hollowly. "I am thankful for the rain," he sang as he danced. "Thank you God for the rain," he sang.
The Little Gray Parrot coughed and brushed the dust from her feathers. The Peacock’s dance was very dusty indeed! The Little Gray Parrot watched the Peacock dance. Finally she could not contain herself. She stamped her small gray foot and said, "Peacock! How can you be thankful for the rain? It has not rained for several weeks, and people say we are in a drought!" The Little Gray Parrot thought the Peacock was certainly silly!
The Peacock stopped dancing. He cocked his head to one side. Then he cocked his head to the other. Finally he said, "I am thankful for the rain even when it does not come. Should I only pray when I get my way?" he asked.
The Little Gray Parrot looked at the Peacock. He was very beautiful with his backdrop of tail. He was beauty standing on two long, long legs. Finally the Little Gray Parrot sighed and said, "You are right, Peacock. We should be grateful whatever the weather. I came to ask for one of your beautiful feathers for you are rightly called the most beautiful bird in the forest. But your gratitude is more beautiful still. I will put that in my red wagon instead." And she did.
The Peacock nodded to the Little Gray Parrot. His blue crown bobbed on the stalks on his head, and he began to dance again. The Little Gray Parrot turned her red wagon around and said, "Thank you, Peacock. I must go now for it will soon be dark and it is a long walk home."
The Little Gray Parrot could hear the Peacock singing as she pulled her red wagon through the forest. The wishing star was already in the sky when she got home, and she was very tired as she put her red wagon away.
"I don’t have any more color now than I had this morning," she said. "My wagon is empty except for the ideas I put there. I will never be able to please God as much as the colorful birds do." She was very tired as she climbed into her bed high up in the tree. It was not long before she fell sound asleep as Mother drew her cobalt and white bed curtains around her.
But God was still awake. He had watched the Little Gray Parrot pulling her red wagon all day. He watched her as she talked to the Jungle Bird and the Scarlet Parrot. He watched her as she talked to the Yellow Wren and the Peacock. And God was very pleased with the Little Gray Parrot for trying to please Him, and he looked down on her gray head sleeping on her gray bed and said, "My Little Gray Parrot. You went to ask the other birds to give you things to make you worthy of Me. But you could see what was truly beautiful in my creation. You gathered the most pleasing things into your wagon, although it appears to be empty. For this reason I will have you pull your red wagon behind you for the rest of time. In this way everyone on earth will know how you have pleased Me..
 

Michael

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Peta,
That's a wonderful story. I've heard versions of it, but none as good as this one. Who is the author and where did you find it, if I may ask?

Michael
 
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It was sent to me from a friend, about the author I have no idea, I'll see what I can find out.
 

bubbles

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What a beautiful story, thank you for sharing :)
 

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