“Speak the words of man,” echoed the sao bird. “I’ll warn them. Come, let us greet them.” And they went forth to meet the beautiful strangers.
And upon a day, as they all came together in one place, the sao bird cried out, “We, the chief birds of the north land, come to greet you and to give you of our wisdom, as you are but strangers in our land. It is told me you speak as [44 ] does man; even so can I. Nourished by the hand of man many years, I did see with my eyes and hear with my ears, and my tongue uttered not only the things I beheld and heard, but things displeasing to my masters. At one time, all men spoke well of me, but afterward was I cruelly punished and driven from the homes of men. Therefore come I this day unto you to warn you that, if man learns of your speaking tongue, he will capture you and nourish you in his home. Yet, should you speak other than he teaches you, you will be punished and driven from the homes of men, for man loves only to hear his thoughts repeated and loves not even a bird that has wisdom or truth greater than his own.”
Fearful of uttering their thoughts, lest man resent it, the parrot and minor bird but echo the words of man.
The Fatherless Birds
A mother bird sat brooding on her nest. Her heart was sad, for her mate had flown away in the morning and had not returned. When the little ones stirred and clamored for food, with drooping wings she flew in quest of it that they might not hunger.
Day after day her heart grew sadder, for her mate came not, and alone she struggled to provide for her fledglings.
When the little birds had grown strong and were able to fly, sorrow and heart hunger had so weakened the mother bird that she lay dying. The little birds crowded about her asking what they could do to aid her, and with her dying breath she cried, “Call, oh, call your father.”
The little birds, flying low over the plains, cried, “Paw hüey, paw hüey,” and children, left alone in their homes, while their parents labor in the rice fields, hearing the wail of the birds, wept, crying too, “Paw hüey, maa hüey.”[8]
Never has the father bird been found, and, to this day, flying low over the plains, the little birds cry, in their plaintive voices, “Paw hüey, paw hüey,” and lonely children echo, “Paw hüey, maa hüey.”