“But son of my heart, you know that even the stupid children of men learn in their schools that the Sparrow is not a migratory bird.”
“What is that to me? I can’t stand it here any longer. Always seeing the same things; in the distance the old church steeple, here before our noses the farm-house, and the dung-hill. No, I want to go away, far away.”
At that he spread out his wings and pushed himself head first out of the nest into space. It seemed very dangerous, but his wings carried him safely through the air.
But the young Sparrow was by no means as joyous and light-hearted as he seemed to be. The words of his parents had aroused all sorts of doubts in his mind. “Mother was really right,” he said to himself. “The Sparrow is not a migratory bird. No one has ever heard of a Sparrow that has flown across the great ocean and gone to foreign lands. But why shouldn’t I be the first one to do this?” he asked himself, with defiant courage. “Some one must always be the first one. If my venture succeeds, I will have proven to all the Sparrow folk that they need not freeze and starve in the winter-time, but can move to the warm countries and live happily. Certainly, the ocean.…” The young Sparrow’s heart lost courage, he thought of what his teacher, the Swallow had once told him about the great, wild water that never seemed to end, about the angry frothy waves over which one had to fly daily. If one’s wings lost their strength, one fell down and was lost. One was swallowed by the waves.
At these thoughts the Sparrow almost wanted to give up the idea. He shrank together and began shivering. Then suddenly he thought how in past hard winters many wretched Sparrows had died of hunger and cold. [[18]]
“No, no,” said he to himself. “I must not be so cowardly. This matter does not concern only myself, but all my brother Sparrows, all the Sparrows of future generations, who will live when I have been long dead. It will be worth every danger and every sacrifice if I can help them to a happier life.”
And the brave young Sparrow decided to leave the next day.
He spent that night in his parents’ nest, nestled close to his mother, wept a little secretly because it was hard for him to leave. Father returned late, and he was quite drunk, threw himself on his bed so that it cracked and fell asleep immediately.
The grey-white sky began to turn rosy, morning came flying on the wings of the wind and brought light to the world. The young Sparrow awoke, looked for the last time at his sleeping parents, and flew forth. He knew in which direction he must fly, for he remembered the stories of the Swallows. Now he flew exactly that way.