THE STORY OF A BLACK-HEADED CROW AND A LITTLE YELLOW CANARY
I
THE Black-Headed Crow sat in a birch tree, pecking at a twig. Peck! Peck! She cleaned her bill, looked around, and suddenly cawed, "Caw! Caw!"
The drowsy cat, Vaska, sitting on a fence, almost fell off with fright at the noise and growled:
"What is the matter with you, Blackhead? The Lord has given you some voice! What are you happy about?"
The Crow answered, "Leave me alone. Don't you see I'm busy? Caw! Caw! Caw! So much to do, so much to do."
"You poor thing," laughed Vaska.
"Keep still, you lazy thing. Your sides must be all worn out with lying about, forever baking in the sun; while I know no rest from early morning. Look at me. Just see what I've done today. I perched on ten roofs, flew over half the town, peeped into every corner and hole there is, and now I must fly up the church steeple, visit the market, and dig a little in the garden. But I'm really wasting time talking to you. Too busy! Too busy! Caw! Caw! Caw!"
The Crow pecked her beak for the last time against the twig, shook her feathers out and was just ready to fly off when she heard a terrible noise. A flock of sparrows was noisily chasing a tiny little yellow bird.
"Catch her! Catch her!" squawked the sparrows.
"What's happened? Whither away?" cawed the Crow, following the sparrows.
The Crow flapped her wings ten times and caught up with the sparrows. The tiny yellow bird, completely exhausted, dropped into the little garden overgrown with bushes of lilacs, currants and syringa, to hide from the pursuing sparrows. The little yellow bird hid under a bush and there was the Crow.
"Who are you?" cawed the Crow.
The sparrows scattered over that bush like a handful of peas. They were furious with the little yellow bird and wanted to peck her to death.
"What do you want with her?" asked the Crow.
"Why is she yellow?" peeped the sparrows in chorus.
The Crow looked at the little yellow bird. She certainly was all yellow. He jerked his head and said:
"Oh, you mischiefs! Why, it isn't a bird at all! There never was a bird like this! However, all you clear out. I must speak with this curiosity that pretends to be a bird."
The sparrows piped, chatted, and were very angry, but they had to clear out. Conversations with a Crow are always very brief. He can peck you to death, you know.
After chasing the sparrows, the Crow questioned the little yellow bird that was breathing heavily and looking pitifully at him with her little black eyes.
"Who are you?" asked the Crow.
"I am a canary."
"No fooling now, or you will get the worst of it. Remember, if it had not been for me, the sparrows would have pecked you to death."
"But I am a canary."
"Where do you come from?" asked the Crow.
"I lived in a cage. I was born in a cage. I grew up in a cage. But I always wanted to fly about like other birds. The cage hung near the window and I always watched other birds. They looked so happy and my cage seemed so small. Well, one day when the little girl, Verotchka, brought my cup of water, she left the door open and I flew out. I flew about the room first and then I flew out through the open window."
"What were you doing in a cage?" said the Crow.
"I am a singer, you know."
"Just sing for me, then," said the Crow.
The Canary sang. The Crow, with his head tilted to one side, listened and wondered.
"You call this singing?" he exclaimed. "Ha! Ha! Ha! How foolish were your masters to feed you for such singing. If they fed anyone, why should it not have been a real bird like me? Just a while ago I cawed and that rascal Vaska almost fell off the fence. That's what I call singing."
"I know Vaska, a most awful beast! Many a time he softly crept to my cage, his green eyes burning, his claws out."
"To some, he seems fierce, but not to others. That he is sly, is true, but there is nothing fierce about him. However, we can talk about this later, for somehow I cannot yet believe that you are a real bird."
"But, Aunty, I am a bird. I am a real bird. All canaries are birds, you know."
"Very well. We shall see. How do you expect to make a living?"
"I don't need very much, really. A few seeds, a bit of sugar and a bit of toast. That is all."
"What a lady you are! A bit of sugar indeed! You can do without sugar. As for seeds, those might be found. On the whole, I like you. Do you want to live with me? I have a splendid nest in the birch tree."
"Thank you. But how about the sparrows?"
"If you live with me, no one will dare to touch you. Not only the sparrows, but even sly Vaska knows my character well. I don't like fooling."
The Canary at once took courage and flew off with the Crow. Yes, the nest was fine. If there were only some toast and a wee bit of sugar!
II
SO the Canary and the Crow lived together in one nest. Although the Crow liked to grumble occasionally, on the whole she was not unkind. Her chief fault was that she envied everybody and very often considered herself abused.
"Will you tell me why the foolish hens are better than I? Just see how they are cared for, fed and watched," she would complain to the Canary. "Then look at the pigeons. Of what use are they? and still look at the handfuls of oats they get. They are so foolish. Yet whenever I come near I am chased from every corner. Is this just? And I'm scolded, too. Haven't you noticed that I'm nicer than other birds and much prettier, too? However, one should not say such things about oneself. Don't you think so?"
The Canary agreed with everything.
"Yes, you are a big bird," she would say.
"Here you are. They keep parrots in cages and look after them. Can you see why the foolish parrot is better than I? He only knows how to scream and chatter and no one can really understand what he says."
"I know. We had a parrot that every one grew tired of," said the Canary.
"Yes, one can think of many birds that live, no one knows why. For instance, the starling; it comes like a mad thing no one knows whence, stays through the summer, and flies away again. There are also the swallows, the bluebirds and nightingales, but one can't really count all this rubbish. There isn't a single really desirable bird. Why, just as soon as there is a cold breeze, all of them seem to fly away, the Lord knows where."
In reality, the Crow and the Canary did not understand each other. The Canary could not understand a life of freedom; the Crow could not understand a life of captivity.
"Aunty, has no one ever thrown you a bit of seed," wondered the Canary, "not a single grain?"
"How foolish you are to talk of seeds, when I have to dodge sticks and stones. People are very cruel."
With this, the Canary could never agree, because people had always been kind to her. She thought that the Crow imagined these things, but the Canary was soon to see the cruelty of people. Once, perched on a fence, she heard a heavy stone whizz over her very head. Some school boys walking past the fence saw the Crow and couldn't resist throwing a stone at her.
"Now, have you seen for yourself?" asked the Crow, climbing upon the roof. "People are always like that."
"Perhaps you have done something to annoy them, Aunty."
"Nothing at all. They are just cruel and all of them hate me."
The Canary felt very sorry for the poor Crow whom no one loved. It must be very hard to live under such circumstances.
On the whole, there were many enemies. For instance, Vaska, with his oily eyes, watching the birds and always feigning sleep. The Canary saw with her own eyes how he caught a young inexperienced sparrow; one could only see the feathers flying, and hear the bones crackling. Horrible! Horrible! Then the hawks, too; very fine to watch them as they sail up into the air, but suddenly you see them, like a heavy stone dropping to the ground, and before you know it, a chick is in their claws.
All this the Canary saw. The Crow, however, was not afraid of either cats or hawks. She often had a notion to have a taste of a young bird herself. At first, the Canary could not believe this, but she really did see this with her own eyes. A flock of sparrows were chasing the Crow, chattering and screaming.
"Let her go! Let her go!" screamed the sparrows, beside themselves, flying over the Crow's nest in a frenzy. "This is awful! This is real robbery!"
The Crow hid deep in her nest and the Canary saw with horror a bleeding sparrow, dead.
"Aunty, what are you doing?"
"Keep still!" said the Crow.
Her eyes were horrible. They seemed to burn. The Canary had to shut her own eyes for fear she would see the Crow gobbling up the poor little victim.
"Some day she may even eat me," thought the Canary.
Having satisfied her hunger, the Crow grew kinder and kinder. She cleaned her bill, perched comfortably and fell into a sweet slumber. The Canary noticed that the Crow was very greedy and not very particular as to what she ate.
Sometimes she would carry a piece of bread, a bit of decayed meat, or some leavings found in a dump hole. The dump hole the Crow liked best, but the Canary could never understand the pleasure of digging in such places.
In fact, it was hard to blame the Crow. She alone ate in one day food enough for twenty canaries. The Crow had only one care—food. Perched on some roof, she was always on the lookout for food.
When the Crow was too lazy to search for food, she would resort to slyness. If she saw a flock of sparrows tearing at something, she would fly right over to them, pretending she was just passing by, cawing with her whole might, "Caw! Caw! I'm busy! I'm busy!"
She would then swoop down, grab the booty, and that was the end of it.
"But it isn't a bit nice to take food away from others," once remarked the indignant Canary.
"Isn't it? But what if I am hungry?"
"Others are hungry, too," said the Canary.
"Well, let them look out for themselves. It is easy enough for you, the pets, cuddled in cages. We have to get our own food. You and the sparrows—how much do you need? A few grains and you are satisfied for the whole day."
III
SUMMER passed unnoticed. The sun seemed to grow colder, the day shorter. Rains began to fall. A cold wind blew. The Canary felt herself a most unfortunate bird, especially when it rained. But the Crow did not seem to mind it.
"What if it does rain? It will stop," said the Crow.
"But it is so cold, too cold, Aunty," said the Canary.
It was especially hard at night. The little wet Canary would shiver with cold and the Crow would scold at her.
"Oh, you baby! What will you do when the real frost comes and the snow falls?"
The Crow was puzzled. "What sort of bird is this that is afraid of rain, wind and cold?" And she began to doubt once more whether the Canary was a real bird, after all. "Surely she must be pretending."
"Truly, Aunty, I am a real bird," the Canary would assert with tears in her eyes, "even if I do feel cold sometimes."
"Look out, now! It always seems to me that you are only pretending to be a bird," said the Crow.
"Honestly, Aunty, I'm not pretending."
Sometimes the Canary would try to think about her future. Perhaps it would have been better to have stayed in the cage, after all. There it was warm and one always had plenty to eat.
Several times she flew up to the window, where her old cage hung. Two new canaries looked out at her and envied her.
"Oh, how cold it is!" pitifully piped the freezing Canary. "How I would like to be in there with you."
One morning the Canary looked out of the Crow's nest. She was astonished at the dreary sight. Over night, the ground had been covered with the first snow. Everything was white, but, saddest of all, the snow covered all the grains on which the Canary fed. There remained only the mountain ash berry, but she couldn't possibly eat that! It was too sour! As for the Crow, she ate that, saying, "Very fine!"
After starving two whole days, the Canary was in despair.
"What is going to happen to me? I will die of hunger," thought the Canary.
The next day the Canary sat wondering when suddenly she saw coming into the garden the very same boys who had thrown stones at the Crow. They spread a net on the ground and covered it with very tasty bird seed then went away.
"These boys aren't so bad," said the happy Canary, looking at the seeds. "Look, Aunty, the boys have brought me some food."
"Very fine food, I must say," croaked the Crow. "Don't you dare stick your bill in there! Do you hear me! If you try to get that seed, you will be caught in the net."
"And what will happen then?" asked the Canary.
"Why, they will put you into a cage again," said the Crow.
The Canary grew thoughtful. She wanted food, but she did not want a cage. Of course, it was cold and at times there was little to eat. Still, life in freedom was better, especially when it did not rain. For several days the Canary was strong. But hunger was stronger. Finally she just had to yield to her longing for food. She was caught in the net.
"Help! Help!" piped the Canary pitifully. "I will never do it again. It is better to die of hunger than to live in a cage."
The Canary now thought that there was nothing in the whole world nicer than the Crow's nest. Of course, it was cold and occasionally one had no food. But there was freedom. One could fly about wherever one pleased. She wept, waiting for the boys to come to put her into the cage. But as luck would have it, the Crow passed by that very moment and spied the Canary in difficulty.
"You are foolish," scolded the Crow. "Didn't I tell you not to touch those seeds?"
"Aunty, I'll never do it again."
The Crow was just in time. The boys were already on their way to fetch their victim. The Crow tore the net quickly with her beak. The Canary was free.
The boys chased the Crow, throwing sticks and stones and scolding her for some time.
"How nice it is to be free," chirped the glad Canary, finding herself once more in the Crow's nest.
"Of course, it's nice. You'd better take care if you want to stay free," scolded the Crow.
The Canary, safe in the Crow's nest, started life anew. Never again did she complain of either cold or hunger.
One day, the Crow flew away in search of food and stayed all night in the field. When she returned she found the little Canary lying in the nest with her little legs up—cold and stiff.
The Crow tilted her head to one side and looking very closely at the Canary, she said:
"Well, I told you you were not a real bird."
