The Crow and other Birds

Stories four and five: The Crow and the Swallow, and the Crow and the Peacock.

Once upon a time, a Sparrow made its way into the Glomdoring, and sat itself besides Brother Crow, with intents to pick a fight.

"See here!" it said, fanning out its wings and tail before Brother Crow's eye.

"Just look at my bright, soft feathers! Have you ever seen something so lovely in your life? Your black quills are stiff and oily and unsightly, and clearly simply not worth growing."

They fluttered this way and that, jeering and quite secure in their superiority. "My plumage is naturally the better of us both! Why don't you dress nicer? You ought to show a bit more pride."

"Your feathers must be awfully cozy in spring," Brother Crow conceded, as the little bird flounced about. "But I scarce can remember the last time I saw you here in winter."

"And that," he continued, settling in as a frigid breeze tore through the treetops, "Are when my friends and I enjoy ourselves the most."

It quite shut up the little sparrow, for a friend in only the fairest weather is worth next to nothing at all.

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Another time, Brother Crow encountered a vain peacock, strutting about the forest floor with pride.

Spotting Dear Crow, the peacock turned to face the sun and spread his glorious tail so it caught every last beam of light.

"Look!" said the peacock, with surety. "How do you expect to compare yourself with me? I am dressed in every color of the rainbow, and you're simply black as pitch."

Brother Crow said nothing to this boast, he merely spread his large, broad dark wings, and flew upward toward the treetops, blotting out the light of the sun.

"Follow me, if you can," Crow jeered, weaving in and out of the tangled branches and nests that crown the Glomdoring. But the peacock could not, he stood among the beasts of the land in the clearing, his tail folding without its spotlight.

]He stayed until the beasts of the Glomdoring drove him out, to the road, while Dear Crow soared in freedom above the trees.