This brief piece is my take on the cautionary tale. The subject matter might seem child like, the style and language are most definitely adult (I hope). I trust you find it to your taste.
Dodo
Once upon a time, or maybe twice, at a time even
before such things were written down, the tragic tale is told of a singular
bird and how it earned its name. I have
no cause to doubt the veracity of this story since it was recounted to me at my
grandmother’s knee one day in that precious hour when the spent day is bidding
a sleepy, satisfied au revoir to a
cloudless night waiting in the wings to unfurl its bejewelled canvas. She, in turn and by tradition, had received
it from her grandmamma, a recognised savant
in her community. And now I lay it
before you that you might take it as a nonsense, pure entertainment or,
perhaps, a truth that’s worth retelling; to each of you as you see fit.
All was a cornucopia.
It teemed. It overflowed. Foliage, flowers and fruit brawled playfully
for their fair share of light, shade, moisture and heat. Fecundity filled every corner and crevice
with beasts great and small of every shape and hue. Existence was certainly a matter of rampant
superfluity. To say it betokened
uncontrolled havoc could, of course, never be inferred, for this would suggest
an infallibility too far. But,
notwithstanding this, there was, however, some cause for concern. Things could not be allowed to overstep the
limits of tolerance and, whilst direct intervention might be perceived as
somewhat heavy-handed, an infringement of innate freedoms, there was a need for
– how might one phrase it delicately? – a degree of ‘local management’. What was needed was a creature who could be
relied upon to convey Their requirements without appearing to speak directly
for Them; a safe pair of hands – claws, hooves, trotters or fins for that
matter – to smooth the reassertion of a modicum of order. And so the call went out, hushed upon the
breeze through the whispering leaves, crashed upon the shores by the cavorting
waves and chattered by the babbling, gossiping brooks.
Rooting aimlessly among the detritus of exotica far
beyond his own drab absence of note came a bird - one consigned to the edges of
creation – who stood out in no particular, part and parcel only of the
background against which the carnival of life was played out. But he heard the message as he happened to
waddle past a crowd of deeply bowing grasses:
“Wanted, one who might communicate with all creation
that all might live in harmony.”
It was an ambitious remit, to be true, and
none-the-less worthy but, though the wording conveyed no sense of exclusion,
his first reaction was to dismiss it summarily as most definitely not for
him. The decision made, he mooched off
further into the thicket in front of him.
And, as he mooched, he thought,
“Why not me?”
Good sense might have provided him with more than one
eminently plausible answer to his rhetorical questioning but these were drowned
out by a sudden sense of self-belief fuelled by a tide of unexpressed
frustration at his lowly station in life.
However, whilst the euphoria of the possible cast a shroud, no matter
how nebulous and temporary, over the crystal clear image of the probable, he
was not completely blind to the likelihood of their being other candidates for
the position. So, by way of preparation,
he set out to meet with them surreptitiously to gauge their approach to
it. He would engage them in innocent
conversation. No-one could possibly
guess at his true motivation.
The most obvious choice would be the lion. He was of established pre-eminence. And he was also irascible and somewhat
unpredictable. So the bird approached
with caution, halting at the edge of the clearing amid the brush in which the
massively muscled creature lazed with his similarly endowed entourage. There was a collective twitching of ears at
the arrival of the outsider. Their
leader swivelled his head sending a succession of waves through the thick mane
which framed his regal face. Seeing who
it was he sneered,
“What do you want?”
Tripping clumsily over his fear the bird replied,
“Well, er, nothing really. I was just wondering if you had heard the
news.”
“What news?”
Now interested, but not deigning to show it.
“They’re looking for someone to communicate with all
creation so that everyone can live happily or, er, something like that.”
“Pah!
That! I’m not interested in that! I’m far too busy being king of the jungle to
worry about that. Now go away.”
Rather nonplussed by the reaction of the lion the bird
slowly turned and trundled away. He took
himself off to the very edge of the ocean where he had heard that the great
whale held sway. Lying just off-shore,
his huge length seeming like a floating island, the whale snorted intermittent
jets of spray high into the air.
“What,” snort, “can I,” snort, snort, “do for you?”
Snort.
Creeping as close as he dared to the extremities of
the fast incoming waters, the bird yelled at the top of his voice to be heard
over the noise of the capering waves,
“I was just wondering what you thought of the news.”
“What,” snort, “news?”
“They’re looking for someone to talk to the whole of
creation so that everyone can live in peace.
Something along those lines anyway.”
“Oh,” snort, “that.” Snort. “Sorry,” snort, “Too busy
trying, “snort, “to catch enough,” snort, snort, “of these pesky little krill.”
Snort, “to keep me going.” And with one final snort and a massive flip of his
tail he was gone.
Surprised, but encouraged, by the answer the whale had
given, the bird travelled to the foot of the beetling cliffs at the end of the
plains. Looking up he could just make
out, soaring majestically on the uplift of the warm air, the profile of the
eagle. Flapping his own stumpy wings and
hopping chaotically from one clumsy foot to the other he tried to catch the
eagle’s attention horribly aware that the great predator might just mistake him
for a meal. Suddenly the eagle stooped,
hurtling down the sheer face of the rocks toward the flopping, flapping
visitor. When he saw exactly who it was he
spread wide his wings pummelling them powerfully against the air and pulled up
short.
“Oh, it’s you.
What are you doing out here?”
“I just wanted to talk to you about what They are
looking for.”
The eagle frowned pensively,
“You mean about wanting someone to communicate and so
on?”
The bird nodded feverishly.
“You came all the way out here just to ask me that?”
More nodding.
“That’s of no interest to me. I am as free as the air itself. Why should I bother with anything like that?”
“Oh, no reason.”
With a mighty beat of his wings the eagle took to
flight leaving the bemused bird to his musings.
Curiouser and still more curious.
No-ne seemed willing to take up the challenge. His optimism swelled as he journeyed far away
from the ocean’s shore, beyond the plains fringed by the lofty cliffs into the
steaming jungle and out of the other side until he reached the Great
Gateway. Shimmering iridescent, it
glided open at his nearing. Without
hesitation he entered and the gates hushed silently closed behind him.
And there They were, seated on a raised platform
looking down imperiously at the bird, who felt, suddenly, very alone.
“You have come about the position.” It was most definitely a statement of fact
and not an inquiry. The bird nodded
furiously anyway.
“You understand what it entails.” Another statement. More nodding.
“When we have need of you We shall make you
aware. Go now.”
And go he did, as expeditiously as his stocky frame
could manage.
Once more outside the gate, he heaved a huge sigh of
relief and elation. They had given him
the job without demur or delay. A
foregone conclusion it all seemed in retrospect as, indeed, it was. He puffed out his chest with pride at his
achievement. He fairly frothed with
excitement.
At home, amidst more familiar surroundings, he
contemplated the unique position in which he found himself. The thrill of power and authority coursed
through him. He preened and pouted. He caught a reflection of himself in a puddle
and a thought struck him. If he was to
be really
effective he would need to impress.
How could he possibly do that dressed in the dun coloured weeds that
were his every day wear? Surely they
wouldn’t begrudge him a fine set of clothes to perform the position with
appropriate gravitas? So he voyaged back
to the Great Gateway which, as before, swung open to him. They were, of course, there waiting for him. Barely had the notion of speech tapped at the
door of his mind’s-eye than One spoke,
“Your wish for clothes is granted. Go now.”
As the gates closed behind him, he looked down at
himself. Every inch was shimmering
colour, and all tailored to fit. As he
moved, the myriad rainbows mutated ecstatically in kaleidoscopic motion. He hurried to the nearest water the better to
regard his image. He gasped at the
sight. Here was truly a suit made to
impress!
Again home, and the novelty of his apparel slightly
dimmed, the bird gave himself to thought once more. If he were to communicate Their messages to
best effect, he would need a voice that was equal to the task. He tried his own out for size. An awkward squawk was all that he could
manage. It would never do. Given the severity of the situation he felt
sure that They would oblige. So, he set
off for the Great Gateway once more.
Through the gates and before Them the bird made to
speak but One raised a hand – and perhaps just the one eyebrow - in mild
reproof intoning,
“Your wish for a voice is granted. Go now.”
Although his case had been clear as daylight yet still
he was surprised at the ease and speed of Their acquiescence. Barely outside
the gates he drank deeply of the pristine forest air and essayed a rather timid
tonic sol-fa. The music that he made was
of the sweetest, lightest wine. He was
encouraged to change key and try once more with added brio: bright top notes
ringing sharp as a bell. He trilled,
chanted and carolled all the way home.
The morning found him deep in thought once more. Impressive to both eye and ear he might be
but these attributes would be as nought if he did not have the bearing to
complement them. They could only reach
the same conclusion as he and he hurried to the Great Gateway to put the
proposition forthwith.
He could not be sure but where, hitherto, he had been
greeted with near complete impassivity, was there perhaps the merest hint of
exasperation? Maybe a hint of
disappointment? He dismissed such
considerations in the instant that it took One of Them to agree a third time,
“Your wish for bearing is granted. Go now.”
The bird backed out of Their presence and scampered
through the Great Gateway pausing long enough to hug himself for the sheer,
unalloyed joy of it all. He simply could
not wait to start practising.
Nor did he. The
very next day, without commencement of official duties, saw the bird strutting
through the forest, chest and chin thrust forward in an affectation of supreme
importance. With a look of indifference
which teetered on the very edge of disdain he surveyed each creature upon his
path. These, in their turn, scratched
their collective and individual heads in bemusement. There was that about this bird which was as
familiar as a lifelong habit and yet the manner and raiment marked him out as
something exceptional. The more he
spied, from the corner of his gimlet eye, what he perceived as respect and,
quite possibly, awe, the more the bird primped and postured. And all this he accessorised vocally with,
“Good Day”, to each and all, now in a sonorous baritone, now with capering
merriment, occasionally with a hint of menace or, again, with a companionable,
cajoling warmth.
This caricature of eminence once passed, the creatures
gathered in knots and clusters to discuss the identity of this personage at
once so recognisable and yet so strange.
One story has it that it was the Owl who, by the application of that
wisdom and perspicacity for which he is noted, first clarified the
mystery. Others say that it was the wily
old Fox, he who made it his business to know everything about everyone, always
who bottomed the conundrum. Who honestly
can say? But revealed the truth was. And the chattering classes broadcast it
throughout woodland, pasture, plain, river, sea and ocean. The bird heard, and his self-aggrandisement,
thus nourished, bloated yet further. In
the blindness of his new-found arrogance, the bird could not, indeed did not
want to, see that his appearance and demeanour sat ill with fellows accustomed
to one of much humbler mien.
The day came when the first edict was revealed to the
bird for onward, and outward, communication to the furthest corners and to
everyone and everything that lived therein.
It concerned the sequencing of watering habits at the seasonally swollen
rivers. The existing free-for-all,
amongst other drawbacks, risked the lives of smaller creatures, and the
premature drying up of the waterways.
The new, streamlined system would organise and stagger the arrival of
different species and super-sets of symbiotic relationships. The programme would work to the benefit of
all. (Though the ever presence of the
crocodiles would clearly need further work!)
The bird received his mission with excitement, pride
and a deal of trepidation despite the gifts with which he had been
endowed. Expectations would be sky-high
and he was determined that he would not be found wanting. He gave the matter his utmost attention. Its every detail he committed to memory,
breaking the whole down into more readily assimilated portions, practising
these by rote and finally reassembling the totality. He rehearsed a plethora of possible
deliveries, seeking out the most appropriate and nuancing these to the finest
degree. His coat he would burnish to a
diamantine splendour. He would comport
himself with dignity in all things.
These would be bravura performances for each would be modified and
modulated to accord with each distinct audience, and circumstance, the better
to convey the essence, and particulars, of the message.
This narrative need not be populated with the
specifics of how the bird acquitted himself.
Suffice it to say that he gave his all.
The degree to which he succeeded is attested to by the calm which
attends the enjoyment of the fruits of the rainy seasons at the great waterways
of the planet. This said, there would be
those who aver that this had more to do with the excellence of the message than
its messenger.
Having accomplished his first task, the bird was keen
to underscore his presence and so, in the absence of further official
demands upon his oratorical skills, he
wandered the paths far and wide accosting unsuspecting gatherings and
addressing them fortissimo; welcome
or, more usually, not.
The second directive concerned the timing and
destination for annual migration and subsequent return. The current confusion saw a sporadic
blackening of the skies as a myriad different families took to the air with
attendant late arrivals, no-shows and casualties. Popular landing sites saw a superabundance of
arrivals, more than could effectively, or comfortably, be accommodated. A more commodious programme was set out with
allocation of departure time to specific groups who would circle in a holding
pattern until, a flock having agglomerated, they could journey forth to a similarly
allocated terminus.
Again the bird practised from the dawn chorus until
the dying notes of the day that he might do justice to the significance of the
assignment. He weighed the task
complete. He left no appurtenance
unaddressed. Word-perfect and polished,
he took the message to the last crack and crevice of land and sea.
But witness the mighty gatherings, the organised
clouds that seasonally swirl above before the trek to warmer climes for
evidence of the efficacy of the decree.
Hear too, though, the muted, but massing, mutterings that style might
just be becoming the enemy of substance.
They saw the implementation of their plans and were
encouraged to make pronouncements on such varied issues as, fishing rights at
the frozen extremities of the worlds, light and airspace in the steaming
jungles and leafy forests, and the moderation of temperatures across the
continents. The bird delivered them all
with never-faltering verve and virtuosity, each presentation and performance,
and each such exhibition, underpinned by incessant, and somewhat annoying,
practise. He gloried in his role. His audiences, sadly, increasingly, did
not. The palate of their attention
became jaded with the too-rich fare of his declamation. And so, little by little, those to whom he
was meant to be the conduit for a greater sense of order, peace and
tranquillity, became inured to the blandishments of the emissary. The despatches went unheeded. Progress in the great project stalled. They saw all, and were not pleased.
It was made known to the bird that They required his
presence and he duly made the long journey to the Great Gateway to present
himself before Them. One spoke.
“We asked only that you communicate with all creation
that each one might live in harmony with his fellows. But you asked for a better appearance. We agreed.
You asked for a better voice.
Again we agreed. You asked for a
better bearing. Once more we
agreed. With all of this you have failed
us. Go now.”
The audience, and his tenure, now both unquestionably
at an end, the bird turned and made his sorry way back to the Great
Gateway. Outside he chanced to see
himself reflected in a small pool of standing water. All trace of his splendid apparel was gone. He made to sing his sadness in melancholic
melody but all that came was a caustic croak.
Still, he had his pride. He would
bear all with propriety and restraint.
But, try as he might, his stiff upper lip refused to set and the tears
of frustration coursed down his face to drip, unchecked and inelegantly from
the tip of his beak. There was nothing
for it but to make the flight home in disgrace.
But as he flapped his wings for take-off he realised that this too was
now denied him. If only he had been
himself, he thought ruefully. Now, not quite bird and not at all mammal, he
wasn’t even that. With a heavy heart,
and even heavier tread, he clumped back whence he came…..Doh, doh, doh,
doh…….Dodo.
