Zellarra Frazel
The singing sparrow
Many people like to jump right into the thick of things, but I feel it is better to start at the very beginning. Let us allow this story to flow at its own quiet, natural pace, like a small brook. After all, I am but a tiny bird—the smallest of the brood.
When my siblings broke out of their eggs one by one, I was still crouching inside. I could only hear the noises of the world outside. I simultaneously yearned to break free, and dreaded what was waiting for me out there. I did not know what life outside would be like. Would I be cold? Would they even be happy to see me? In the end, with clumsy, hesitant movements, I broke the eggshell myself. I think I thoroughly scared the others; perhaps they thought I wouldn’t even survive the hatching. Still, it was a moment of immense joy to finally make up my mind and break through that inner barrier. For while it is true that the egg provided protection for a time and helped me develop, there comes a point when we must leave our safety behind to experience reality. Beyond the nest, thousands of people walk beneath us. Tall and short, boys and girls, women and men alike stop to marvel at the singing of the birds. Of course, they do not understand what our melodies are about. But now, for my part, I will reveal the secret: I mostly hum and practice these sounds because I am deeply grateful that I get to experience this life. For what a wonderful feeling it is when, hatching from the egg, so much suddenly unfolds before you! The brilliant blue sky, the white clouds floating lazily by… these things cannot even be put into words, they can only be felt.
But life is not simple for us either. One of the hardest tasks for us—just like mastering a steady walk is for humans—is learning to fly. And whether you believe it or not, humans, walking might be much easier for you than soaring is for us. After all, if there is a storm or if anything harsh happens, you are still standing on solid ground. There are no regular earthquakes, whereas for us, storms and raging winds are daily guests in the sky. As soon as there is trouble, you can immediately run to a safe place; at most, you just have to quicken your pace to escape the rain. I know from my mother that you also have to walk carefully on icy roads in the winter, but let’s be honest: you rarely use your two legs, your money, and your opportunities in such a vulnerable way as we use our wings.
We have to pay attention to the strength of the wind and our entire body at every single moment, just to stay up in the air. For us, a single fall can mean the end of life. You can fall too, true, and your leg might break, but in your world, there is help: doctors set it, heal it, and the luckier ones can walk again. We have no doctor to operate on our broken wings or revive us. It often happens that on a stormy night, we become helpless, suffer an accident, and once forced to the ground, even the wheel of a huge car passes over us… and that is the final station.
But you know what? Despite all of this, I did not want to stay trapped in the safety of the egg. I did not want fear to hold me back. Because it would have been much worse never to experience what it feels like to fly. It would have been much worse never to learn, because then I would have remained forever at the mercy of time and life itself. This way, however, with my wings, the choice is in my hands—or rather, in my feathers. Just as you humans stand up on your feet and simply walk away if you don’t like something, we do exactly the same with our wings. If we don’t like a place, we fly away. If we long for a warmer land, we set off on a journey. If we need safety, we land on a more protected branch. You are capable of making this change with your feet as well. And you don’t need grand things for it. Only one single thing: determination.
Having determination, of course, does not mean that fear disappears once and for all. But somehow, it still brings a dose of courage with it, and from that point on, instincts do their job. In the family, I was given the name „Pöttöm” (Speck) because I arrived last, and I turned out a bit smaller and more fragile than the others. We were a bit crowded in the nest, but with a little ingenuity and practice, one beautiful day, flying went quite well. It was beautiful spring weather, and life was buzzing everywhere. Many people walked under our tree. In the beginning, I thought birds just talked to themselves, but then I realized that we watch our surroundings very closely, and everything has its own system. Up there in the heights, from where the human world looks like a bustling anthill, I often just smiled at their strange habits. One day, a little girl stopped under our tree with her dad. Suddenly, the little girl looked up, pursed her lips, and began to whistle melodically—surely her dad had taught her. I listened, spellbound, and then I tried to imitate the sound. Well, that resulted in such a hearty laugh from both my siblings and the little girl that tears were rolling down their eyes! I was still very clumsy back then, and whether you believe it or not, for us birds, it is sometimes much harder to learn to imitate human whistling than flying itself. But the little girl was very sweet: she patiently showed me again and again how to shape the sound. Finally, I got the hang of it, and when we understood each other, they waved happily and walked on.
In the following days and weeks, I practically drove my siblings crazy. I simply couldn’t stop practicing! I developed my whistling to a level that they couldn’t even come close to. In the evenings, our mother could hardly tell us to hold back because the others wanted to sleep in the unusual silence. But I was unable to be bored. A little bird’s life is anything but boring if one—or rather, the bird—keeps their eyes open. We don’t have to work for our daily morsel like humans do. Although nest-building is hard work, in the park, a cute old gentleman checked our food and water every single day. We lived like kings. However, our mother warned us as summer approached:
„Only accept the food that I bring, or what that cute old gentleman gives us! All kinds of people walk by here. Not everyone is evil, but there are plenty of embittered people who like to cause damage to nature, plants, and the animal world as well. Be careful!”
Then, suddenly, the summer heat burst in. Well, that’s when the flood of complaints really started in the nest!
„Oh, I’m so hot, I can’t stand this!” one of my siblings wailed.
„I’m about to die of thirst!” countered the other.
„We’ll never make it to the shade!” grumbled the third.
Somehow, though, our bodies adapted to the weather. And I tried to cheer them up with the whistling I had learned. Eventually, my siblings caught on to it too, and together we filled the park with song. The people down on the benches just held their heads: „Oh, how much these birds chirp, don’t they ever get tired?” My goodness, it must surely be very tiring to be human—much more tiring than being a little bird!
Yet the greatest fun was listening to the people sitting on the benches. It’s incredible how much humans can dramatize over nothing! There was a couple arguing in the blazing sun:
„Oh, it’s so good, finally the weather is nice, I love this warmth!” the girl said enthusiastically.
„No, it’s not good, stop talking nonsense! This near 40-degree heat gives me the creeps!” her partner cut her off crossly.
Up on the branch, we almost choked with laughter. We flapped our wings, we laughed at them so hard. The girl looked up at us and melted: „Oh, look how cute they are, how they are whistling for us!” The man, however, looked up at us with a sharp glare, as if he knew exactly that we were laughing at him. „These critters are laughing at you…” he muttered, and even added a few ugly words. A bird’s life is not boring at all, you can have such a good time amused by humans! Of course, there were also visitors whose every single word we didn’t understand. Our mother enlightened us that they were foreigners, because in the human world, there are plenty of different languages, not just Hungarian. And just as humans don’t understand what we chirp, we don’t understand every human language either. But one thing is for sure: you can have a brilliantly good laugh at the hungarians and their strange arguments!
Unlike most humans, for us birds, spring and summer are the busiest working periods. We always look forward to this time the most. I especially love spring, when, alongside nature, love itself awakens, so to speak. It is incredible to see how spring can calm even the grumpiest, most cynical people and bring a smile to their faces. This beginning is so colorful and vibrant that it is a joy to watch from above, and one can have a great laugh at the hustle and bustle below. Although we do not count the months like humans do, we have learned a lot about the calendar from them. For instance, that cute old gentleman built us a wonderful, sturdy wooden house. He designed its entrance to be completely weatherproof: if a storm or pouring rain came, we could retreat safely inside, and larger, predatory animals could not harm us. Moreover, he fixed the little house on a safe branch at the top of the tree, so that no trouble could come to it by any accident. He even put food inside for us, so our meals never got soaked.
When the great summer heat passed, people continued complaining as usual, just for a different reason. In October, an elderly couple walked under our tree, and the old man grumbled in annoyance:
— It’s unbelievable that it’s still not cool! Look at that, it’s October, and the sun is still shining like this, it’s still hot, one can’t even dress properly! It’s simply not right that this weather refuses to change!
My siblings and I just had a good laugh. Humans are capable of throwing a tantrum over the smallest things, instead of just enjoying the beautiful weather. Of course, summer wasn’t always easy for us either. When the sudden summer showers and downpours struck, oh, how difficult it was to fly! At times like that, our feathers got completely soaked with water, became heavy, and it was impossible to fly from one tree to another. Humans must feel exactly the same when they get drenched to the skin, and can barely walk or run because of their heavy, wet clothes. Except humans can change their clothes, whereas we cannot. Fortunately, the old gentleman took care of us, and we were never cold in the wooden house. I was sure that this kind man understood almost everything about us. When the true, harsh winter frost set in, the park emptied out completely. The people disappeared; the malicious and the loud ones all went home. It was then that the cute old gentleman appeared again and did something truly special: he carefully took down our wooden house and brought us along to his own home. He lived alone, he no longer had a wife, and no relatives visited him either, so we became his company.
We were quite comfortable in the nice, warm apartment, and out of gratitude, we hummed and sang to him all day long. But if he asked us to be quiet, we silenced ourselves immediately, because we respected his peace. The winter flew by quickly, and we didn’t even feel the cold because he always provided the warmth. We often saw him come home with a red face, shivering, if he had to chop wood or if he went out to get food for us in the freezing cold. He did everything for us. Then spring arrived, the time of return, and that was when a terrible accident happened. The gentleman was just carrying us out to the park, trying to put our wooden house back up in the heights, while we were still waiting inside. My mother and my siblings were already discussing how they would gather a new, large nest this year, and I was watching quietly. Suddenly, without any warning, the poor gentleman collapsed.
I was terribly frightened. But instead of waiting to see what would happen, a sudden, primal instinct took over me. I could no longer hear my mother or my siblings; I just flew up, high, escaping the strange, scary noises. When I reached a safe branch, I looked back. The gentleman was being carried away by people in a black bag… Sadly, there was no one left to look after us.
But the tragedy did not end there. When I flew back to the nest, I saw that in the great rush, people had accidentally trampled my siblings and my mother, because everyone was paying attention to the gentleman. That was when I understood a harsh, lifelong lesson: sometimes, even if you do everything for another, the moment comes when you must save yourself. Because you can only give a chance to a new generation, and you can only pass something of yourself on to the world, if you yourself stay alive and well.
I sat up there in the tree, chirping sadly in my loneliness. It was then that the little girl appeared again with her dad. As if they understood my mourning song, they stepped up to the tree, carefully picked up my family, and buried them properly. Both the little girl and her dad cried, and from above, I bid farewell to my loved ones and the kind gentleman with one final, sorrowful song. But there was no anger in my heart. I knew that the death of my family was just an accidental mishap. I was grateful to time for all the good things I received from the gentleman.
Time passed, and I remained faithful to my song. In the meantime, I also got my own family. While they were still fast asleep in the nest, I started whistling early in the morning, as if I were responsible for ensuring that the beautiful things in the world remain, and that I could greet the first visitor.
The little girl and her dad regularly came back to see us; they became our new helpers. As the next cold period approached, I calmly spoke to my new family:
— You don’t have to be afraid, we will surely be in good hands! This little girl has made me laugh since the very first day. And as long as the world is the world, people will no longer know me as Pöttöm, even though that was the name I received from my parents. Out of respect, bowing her head before our past, the little girl named me the Singing Speck. She felt that this name suited me much better, and I wore it proudly. I always taught my family: one must accept loss, draw the lesson, and passon the knowledge. If time brings it so, or if they have to fly further away due to a gloomy storm and I can no longer keep up with them, they should go bravely. Because they can only enrich the living world if they are healthy and stay alive. Pain and sadness remain our eternal traveling companions, as not everyone can stay with us forever. Sometimes we are disappointed, and it is hard to move forward with this burden. But as long as our hearts can take it, as long as the soul is sturdy and the body obeys, we must press onward. Throughout it all, I remained who I was: I have not forgotten my loved ones, but grief no longer weighs down my wings. Whatever happens in your life, dear human, come visit me in the forest. If something weighs heavily on your heart, or if you happen to be in good spirits, let us sing together! For music is a help in every case, and a true medicine for the soul.