The King of Birds

Being strong, does not make one a king.

I am obsessed with finding the less popular stories from mythologies and turning them into masterpieces in my mind. This is the one thing not many people know about me. I could sit there, and daydream about these extraordinary, peculiar and wonderful worlds all day, just like a monk relaxes with meditation. In a way, this is my relaxation. This is my meditation.

I am not really sure how I came across the idea for this short story, but I could not wait to turn it into a fairy tale. Thank you, Aristotle and Pliny, for mentioning this legend which turned into a beautiful swan in my mind.

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Once upon a time, many, many centuries ago, a contest among birds took place. The greatest race of all time. The birds were restless and needed a leader, who could lead them to greatness. A leader who would not give up, and reach more than just their potential. A king who could do the impossible, with a mix of harmless cunning and determination. The contest has been decided and an announcement has been made; a bird who can prove to fly the highest will become the king of all birds.

Upon hearing about the contest, a simple wren decided to enter. Every single creature on the planet doubted, a small creature like him, had even the slightest chance to win. Even his life partner called him crazy. Yet he knew strength does not make one a king. Therefore, with his head held high, he walked toward the contestants on the day of the race. They looked down upon him with humour marking their faces and their beaks laughing at him. He passed an eagle, a hawk, a vulture, a condor, a white stork and many others, so much bigger and stronger than himself. Because everyone knew he would not win, they let him fly off first.

The birds flew, letting the clear blue sky and sunshine mark their way, the wind rustling their feathers. From below, the sky became covered in blackness.

The wren knew he could not win by using his strength only, and therefore, he quickly needed to think of a way to beat these birds. He soon saw an eagle fly close above him and without further ado, he grabbed one of the feathers with his beak, hiding under the giant bird. No one seemed to pay this any mind as they continued to watch the race. As the race was closer to a conclusion, it was obvious the eagle would soon win. The wren waited until he felt the eagle stop ascending and flew upwards, winning the competition and in turn, surprising everyone who ever doubted him.

One of the gods saw this and upon announcement of the new king, they descended to congratulate the wren. They painted a yellow triangle on the wren’s head, reminiscent of a crown, ‘from the on, you will be known as Goldcrest, a new bird species, and the one and only king of all birds.’