"Budda, budda budda" sang the little cardinal. "Budda budda came back a perfect imitation of the cardinal. The little mockingbird flew up and down excitedly.
"I've got it", he sang to his buddy. "I knew I could learn how to sing your song." He tried it again, and out it came, just like the cardinal's song.
"I can do it. I can do it" he chuckled," If I can imitate you, I can imitate any song. The cardinal gave a little shake of his head, as if agreeing that his was indeed, a superior sound.
"Now I'm going off to see how the robin makes his song."
Tiny, the mockingbird, flew busily away to the nearby nest of the robins where the mother robin was busy tweeting happily in a twig near her babies. "Cheer up, cheer up" she sang and the next thing she heard was a little "cheer up, cheer up."
"Oh it's you Tiny. There you are again. Why don't you just leave us alone. Go and sing your own song."
"Oh, but I like your song. Please don't mind me. Let me try it again - cheer up" love to sing your songs, but I'll go along now ." He spread his wings and flew off to visit the song sparrow's nest , Soon he could give a perfect imitation of the song sparrow's - tweet tweet tweet. All day long little Tiny flew from nest to nest learning the songs of his bird buddies. The coo coo of the dusty brown morning dove, the phoebe phoebe of the black capped nuthatch - the caw caw of the blue jay, thep trill of the elusive woodthrush were sounds he imitated joyously.
Around 4:00 p.m. Tiny heard a a loud fluttering of wings. He spotted a gathering of birds on a low bush near the entrance to the woods.
"Good news. Good news" said the robin mother, who was the unofficial leader of the flock.
"The King is coming and he wants to hear a bird concert. Each bird will sing his song for the king and his party, and then King Harold, the great, will pick the prettiest songster and the bird who wins will be selected as the premier bird of the kingdom and will be given first bird honors. We have a week to prepare. I must hurry home so that I can start practicing and make sure that my little robins can sing our notes perfectly."
A twitter and a rush of bird sounds followed this great announcement. Soon all the birds had followed the robin's lead.
Tiny was very excited by this news, but suddenly he realized that he didn't know his own song. He only knew the songs of all the other birds.
"Oh dear, oh dear", he said "I must go home and ask mama mockingbird to teach me our song." He swiftly soared to the treetops and made his way home. Breathlessly he approached his mother.
"Mom, there's going to be a bird song contest and each of us must sing our song to King Harold. The prettiest singer will be chosen as number one. Teach me our mockingbird song. I know the songs of the cardinal, the robin, the bluebird an d all the others, but please dear Mom, I don't know our song... Why , oh why haven't you ever taught me our song" ? Tiny stopped for a minute and looked at his mother. He saw then that a small bird tear was coming from her eyes.
She said to him, "Tiny, I never thought I would have to tell you this but I was wrong. You don't know your song , because" and here she tweeted sadly "Because we don't have a song of our own. Our song is only the songs of the other birds. You can imitate them because that's the gift you've got, but you have no song of your own. Tiny shivered at those words.
"No song of my own? No sound that's just mine? No Mom, no! Tell me it's not true. That means that I can't enter the contest. I can't believe it". Before his mother could stop him, he flew straight up to the top of the tree.
"I'm going. I'm ashamed of what you call my gift. . I don't call it a gift,..... no way--. Goodbye Mom - I can't face my friends."
Tiny flew and flew, until finally exhausted, he found an old nest in a giant hole in a tree outside the of Tiny's own forest. He sank sobbing into the nest, closed his eyes and fell asleep. Meanwhile back in the woods , all the birds were practicing their songs, readying for the contest. But while they practiced, something odd happened ; a strange fungus began to grow on the trees and sent forth an ether like vapor, When the birds inhaled it, they fell into a deep sleep. After a few days, all thebirds were quiet. No sound could be heard. The forest was completely still.
The day of the contest arrived. King Harold and his courtiers prepared for the contest and the outing in the woods. The servants went ahead to prepare the setting. They carried brooms and scythes. When they saw the fungus, they cut i t off and swept it away. They , of course, did not know of the damage that had been done. The birds were still in a deep sleep, well hidden from view.
Tiny, on the otherhand had also slept for three days. As he awoke, feeling very refreshed , he found himself far from his bird friends and far from his mother. It felt pretty strange to beout in the big woods without anyone or anything he knew.
"Maybe, I don't have a song of my own, but I can do a pretty good cardinal, he thought. "I think I'll fly back to the woods."
In minutes little Tiny was airborn. He flew and flew, stopping only for a drink of water or a quick worm, until he came to the edge of his own woods. He went directly home to tell his mother how sorry he was that he had flown away. Alas and alack, his mother was nowhere about.
"Maybe she's visiting the cardinal," he thought, so off to the cardinal's nest he flew. By the time he arrived there he began to experience a strange uneasiness.
"It's too quiet!!! Where is everybody? This is creepy. Hey Mom- Hey cardie- where are you all? Only quiet answered his cries There's no one here but me he thought . Suddenly, a loud sound came from the forest depths. Tiny looked down from his perch on the tree . He saw a group of elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen.
"Oh my goodness. This must be King Harold and his party. Surely that one there with the long golden hair and the pink brocade tunic and hose must be King Harold himself. How exciting. I shall fly closer so that I can hear every sound."
Tiny swooped down to the lowest branch where he could both see and hear all the happenings. King Harold looked around curiously and then questioned the servants about the wherabouts of the birds.
"Let's call for them. We are waiting."
Tiny heard the beaters call for the cardinal but nothing happened. They all waited and waited. Tiny, from his perch, waited, but still NOTHING happened. He grew progressively more nervous and finally when the beater gave another call for the cardinal, Tiny could not stand it.
"I know the cardinal's song".
So- he gavethe most beautiful budda, budda, budda, that he had ever given.
"Good- good" they all said, "Let's go on.. Let's hear the robin!".
Again, after a nervous wait, Tiny said to himself, "I may not have my own song but I know his song" and so "cheer up, cheer up" followed, and not just cheer up, cheer up but by now Tiny was fully into the concert and gave full throated imitations of all the birds. He had even stopped wondering about the missi ng birds he was having such fun singing for the group.
At the end of the concert King Harold said, "Let all the birds come together so that I can name the champion". The servants called in a loud voice for the appearance of all the birds. Nothing happened. People looked at each other curiously and looked around in all directions. Tiny stood first one one thin leg and then the other. Finally he knew he would have to reveal himself. Everyone was getting too upset, waiting down below, so down he flew. The King's hand happened to reach out at the same time so Tiny flew right into it and looked at him wishing that he could talk and tell him what had happened.
"Hello little fellow. You are plain enough and you are bold enough, but why are you here? I am waiting for the songsters."
Tiny realized that there was only one way to show that he was the songster, so he started his roundelay of songs. One by one this plain little bird brought out the sounds of his forest buddies. The King's face changed as he listened. His look of curiosity turned to one of pleasure and then to one of pure delight.
"So- you are my songster, my petite one. You are my chorus from the fores t. You know all the songs. You are indeed my number one . Hooray for you. You have saved my forest sounds and I proudly give you the title of CHAMPION BIRD OF THE KINGDOM OF THURINGA. You shall have access to the palace anytime you desire and you will be asked to sing at state dinners at my pleasure."
Tiny's little breast swelled to such a size that he thought he was going to burst. All his hard work of learning the bird calls had finally made a difference. He thought of what his mother had said - that his gift - was, his power to imitate. Tiny realized now- , that it is not the gift you get, but how you use your gift that makes the difference.
"No song of my own. Who needs it? ! I have all the songs I can handle right now-" and as if to prove it. Tiny let forth with budda budda budda.