|
|
Once upon a time there lived a little sparrow. He was a good bird. He always did what he was told and never really questioned his elders for reasons why he had to do certain things. There was one thing he hated, though.... flying south for the winter.
It was so tiring. Non stop flying for thousands of miles. What was the point? He was told that it got cold during the winter months and that there was no food around. But the robins never went south, did they? There's got to be some food. It can't possibly be as bad as the elders are saying. And with that thought, our little hero decides that he'll take it easy this year, and stick around with the robins. So he said goodbye to all his friends as they set off for their long journey, and settled down for an easy winter.
At first it was quite fun. Admittedly, there wasn't a great deal of food around, but then, there wasn't a great deal of birds around wanting food either. But as time went on, and the weather started setting in, he found it increasingly difficult to keep warm and free from hunger. He studied the robins, and how, just by sitting on a conveniently placed spade in the garden, proudly baring their rosey chests, they would get fed by some caring home owner. He tried it, but it never worked for him, dull looking and spotty as he was. And so, as time went on, he came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, he'd made a small error of judgement, and if he started off now, he wouldn't be too far behind the rest of the flock going south.
So off he went with an excitement inside his little heart at the thought of meeting up with his friends again. What he didn't realise, though, was how much colder it was, up there, under the dark forboding clouds, high in the sky.
He flew as fast as his little wings could carry him, but as they flapped, small traces of ice started to form on his wing tips. The ice grew along his wings making them heavier and heavier until it reached a point where our poor little hero could flap them no longer.
He plumetted to the ground...... a solid block of ice.
He came hurtling down from the sky and hit the deck, unnoticed by a soul, with a force that knocked all the wind from his tiny little lungs. And there he lay, a broken, dejected, hungry, frozen excuse for a bird, in the middle of a muddy cattle field.
Meanwhile, Clover, the freisian, was just thinking that it was about that time of day when one has to rid ones body of all that ones body has no further use for. She promptly deficated....all over our frozen little hero! How much worse could it get for our feathery friend?
However..... cacooned within the warmth of a fresh, steaming cow-pat, the ice melted and the glow seeped back into the heart of our bird. After all he had been through, he was now as snug as a bug in a rug. So happy did he become, that he started to sing. Oh, how he sang.
Outside in the real world, meanwhile, Ceafer Cat was out looking for field mice... in the very same field where a certain sparrow was spouting off his mouth.
"I thought I heard a bird. then," thought Ceafer, "but I couldn't have done 'cause they've all gone south for the winter."
Chirp..chirp... chirpy, chirpy cheep cheep!
And with the hunting instinct of a cat stalking a bird, Ceafer tracked down this strange singing to a pile of cow dung quietly steaming in the mist of a cold, winters day.
He waited a while, wondering. But eventually he carefully put his paws into the pancake and discovered our friend. He sat in bewildered amazement as he looked down upon this happy bird, who was looking up into the hunters eyes, happily singing with all his might. But Ceafer, being a cat, and realising that cats are supposed to eat birds, with one deaft sweep of paw, snatched up our hero.....and ate him.