Ravens, Turtles and Firebirds
Many, many years ago there was a race of brown birds who lived in the grassy shoreline of a large inland sea. It was the best place to search for the delicious, fat-pink worms which these birds were so good at finding.
The brown birds, who normally looked to be in need of a good grooming, ranged from a slimy dark-yellow to a gritty dark-brown, mud color. Their thick feathers had straggly feather bits and even twigs sticking out at odd angles, while their peg-shaped legs and feet were the color of yellow pond scum, like that which floats along the edges of sickly water puddles.
All in all, these untidy birds looked very much like… well if you saw them from an angle, it was hard to tell them apart from the aftermath of a good meal. And to be perfectly honest, most of the other birds didn’t want to be downwind from them either.
Yet their unique camouflage gave them the best and easiest life among the different bands of birds along the shoreline. This seemed unfair and some of the others complained that these turd birds were taking all the best worms for themselves. Tensions were growing as this had been a dry season and worms like those were worth fighting for.
Then one spring morning, a baby brown bird sitting alone in the muck found one of those satisfyingly juicy, fat-pink worms. A nearby raven, in a fit of jealously, threw a rock and accidentally killed the little bird. It quickly stole the fat worm and scampered off leaving the dead youngster rumpled in the mud.
Word of the attack spread quickly. This was outrageous behavior and the brown birds were of course, outraged! With a great squishing noise, several of them, ripe with rage, piled up on that murderous raven and suffocated it!
As fate would have it that day, a particularly unkind old raven hen saw the situation as an ideal opportunity to cause trouble for the birds she so hated. She venomously cried out, “Those greedy turd birds are taking all of the best worms and food for themselves! We live here too!”
The unkindness grew as the birds gathered, “If we don’t stop these filthy, turd birds now, this land will be unfit for anyone to live in! We are only trying to feed our babies!” She desperately added, “Oh help us Lord Raven! Help us!”
Their conspiracy had quickly turned into a good against evil war and the ravens decided that for the good of everyone, now was obviously the right time to wipe the shoreline clean! The mob-rule decision was to rid the land of these turd birds once and for all! The ravens flushed the turd birds out to sea and squished any floaters who wafted back in.
Most of the brown birds died in the water that day but a few managed to hide under leaves along the shoreline while some of the strongest flew out to sea in desperate hope of a miracle. Luckily they spotted several moving islands on the waters below.
Dropping fast, they plopped heavily upon several large and somewhat surprised, Red Ridgeback Turtles, who were on a journey to their nesting grounds at the very center of the inland sea, where the warm sun from above and volcanically heated waters below made the ideal environment for hatching and rearing their families.
The turtles, in contrast to the brown birds, were very beautiful. Their shells were spectacular as far as turtle shells go, or any other shells for that matter. They were virtual landscapes of mountains and valleys which were colored from bright red to deep crimson and then gradually to black. Their thick ridges were beautifully crested, the tallest tipped with white like snow-capped mountains.
The turtles were an ancient race even older than the earth and were often connected with one mind. They could act in unison to perform powerful feats of magic. They multiplied the oysters until they were thick and plentiful and then gathered the oyster shells into giant nests which they caused to grow vines with flowers and berries. And the turtles didn’t care what the birds looked or sounded like, they rather enjoyed their humble and organic company. It was a natural friendship.
Later that same season shortly before their eggs were to hatch, the turtles saw a horrific firestorm approaching on the horizon. It flowed directly toward them with ribbons and curtains of ominous swirling green and red flames, bouncing up and down between the earth and the sky.
The turtles knew this old enemy and they knew it’s cosmic flames were killing everything they touched. Saving their eggs was the only hope they would have of keeping the ancient families alive. Acting quickly, the turtles pushed each other up until they formed large pyramids covering their nests and eggs.
While the other creatures had called them turd-birds and worse, the turtles had called them friends. The birds seeing their new friends needed help, flew up into the sky acting as living shields helping to protect the nests.
Their scraggly feather bits quickly burned away but the heavy brown feathers puffed up and glowed with red and green flames. From below, the shimmering heat rising from their wings and feet made them look as though they were giant flaming birds covering the night sky.
All too quickly, even though they lasted for several hours, the cosmic flames completely burned up the brown birds, leaving nothing but a few wisps of smoke. Sadly, not too much later, the great turtles were also dead. Their deep crested shells had melted and flowed like wax into the trenches their feet had dug into the nests of oyster shells.
Yet not all was lost, their dying efforts were not in vain for the turtle’s eggs did hatch later that season giving birth to many of the different races, both two-legged and four-legged, who populate the land today.
The turtles gave up their beautiful red shells, forever changing the tone of the land to magical, healing and noble red. Their thick ashes became part of the land and mountains. The trenches they dug around these Black Hills are still stained red with their life’s blood and melted shells.
On rare occasions when the Aurora Borealis is visible, observers can still see the great brown bird’s ghostly shapes shimmering in front of the dancing ribbons and curtains of the pale-green and red, northern lights. That light cannot easily pierce the loyalty of those dirty brown birds from so many eons ago.
Because of their noble sacrifice, the last of the brown birds who survived back on the grassy shoreline were magically transformed. The turtles had given them the gifts of physical and musical beauty as well as the ability to be reborn in fire. We know them today as Firebirds.
The Raven’s Story
We were plagued with these greedy, dirty brown birds… Man, they were nasty things! They looked and smelled like big piles of poo! It’s no wonder that all the best worms were drawn right to them!
They stank like you wouldn’t believe! And their backbone-vibrating, flatulent screeching was driving everyone mad or deaf, or both! We didn’t seem to have any place that was free of these filthy birds.
Worse yet, they ate their own body weight in the best worms, Every! Single! Day! They only left the little red wiggly ones for everyone else! It’s no wonder why we were hungry and worried about food!
One fateful day, those vile birds piled up on and suffocated a simple poor, hungry Raven, just for finding a good worm! Enough was enough. Our battle cry became, ‘One Flock! One Mind! One Goal!’ Like a stampede with wings, there was no stopping us! With help from the Great Lord Raven himself, we tossed ’em all out to sea! There was no need for mercy, we had a righteous cause.
Then later that very same summer, flaming red dragons appeared in the sky and after that we never saw another turd-bird! We knew this was our answer from the Great Lord Raven himself! It was proof that he hears and helps us. Flaming Red Dragons now adorn our flags. Beware!
The Worm’s Tale
That’s us, the bottom of the food chain. You can’t get much lower than eating the shoreline muck. Whether it’s the seductive brown birds or the righteous ravens, we’re just live meat. The ravens will soon find out, without the special minerals provided by their turd-birds, we’re just regular red wiggly worms. Oh and keep your red dragons, we’ve got green flame gods.
The Firebird’s Lament
This residual, eternal-blessing sucks! We weren’t the noble ones, can’t we just die already… please?
By Randy Peterson
Aurora photos by Evan Ludes https://www.facebook.com/FramedByNature/
The worm and raven photos were blatantly stolen off the internet.
