Belgian Fairy Tales

by William Elliot Griffis

“But this time,” said one of the older of the father-birds, who seemed to be chief of the company, “we shall leave the warm countries and go into the cold north. There, it may be that men do not fight, and there are no falcons.”

“At any rate,” cooed the very oldest of the mother-birds, “there will be no monkeys there.”

At this, all the other mother pigeons winked and blinked at each other, as if to say, “What a [[115]]long memory she has!” And, indeed, this bald-pated old pigeon was the oldest in the entire party. She was not a carrier, but she remembered what her great, great grand-mother had told her, about the mischievous monkeys, that ate up the pigeons’ eggs, to the grief of the parents, that could only fly at the rascals, and peck the ears of the ugly brutes.

“Nor any falcons, either,” snapped out another rather old Mrs. Pigeon, that had six times laid eggs, and borne six broods of squabs, each time educating them properly, and teaching them to fly. Now, in her old age, just when she hoped for a little quiet, without family cares or trouble, she had to take sole charge of two sets of young pigeons, whose mothers had been killed by falcons. The poor daddies, that were now widowers, did not know much about the business of housekeeping, or of washing, dressing, and preening the feathers of his young brood, or about keeping the nest in order; yet they could spank the lazy squabs when necessary, and box the heads of the naughty ones, and do it well.

As for the old lady pigeon, who had to attend to the matter of properly raising two motherless families, she grumbled a good deal about it, declaring to her neighbors that she had already, for six successive spring seasons, raised six lots of youngsters. For her part, she was tired of [[116]]squabs, that had no clothes on, and did not know how to coo, or behave properly. She would do the best she could, to look after other folks’ babies, yet she did hope that, as soon as their wings grew, the flight of the whole community would at once take place, and not be put off a day; for she had heard that more falcons were coming.

It must be at night, when the terrible hunters of the air were asleep, or could not see, that the pigeons were to migrate in a body. The country decided on was Norway.

So, after a long flight, with many stops on the way, to give rest to the wings of the youngsters, that were not strong, the entire flock—enough of them almost to darken the air—arrived in the land of mountains, lakes, and waterfalls, of stormy winds, and of ice and snow, that fell heavy and often; sometimes even in summer. They received a right royal welcome from the people living in the country where reindeer were numerous and nearly all the houses were built of wood.

Tied to the chimneys of the barns and wooden houses, the stranger birds noticed sheaves of grain and hay. From these, the pigeons found food when they were hungry, and carried away warm stuff for the building and lining of their nests. Soon they were very happy in their new [[117]]quarters, with no wars, or monkeys, or falcons, to disturb their housekeeping.

There was much billing and cooing, and a great many nests were built at once. These were soon filled, first, with pretty blue eggs, and then by chirping birdies, and everybody in the pigeon world was happy as happy could be.

Now when the fairies in Norway heard of the arrival of this new kind of bird, in their realm, and of the good behaviour of the young, and the fine character of the old ones, they wanted to see them and could hardly wait till they paid a formal visit.