A Byrd's Christmas Story: The Top of The Rise
Dictated lovingly by Yardbyrd to his attentive and loyal assistant James.
It was one of those days when the wind was cold and strong but the sun was strong and bright. Snow still fell lightly dancing in flurries on the already covered land; it danced with a certain hope, it danced with a certain, joy, it danced just to be dancing.
Walking slowly in the snow an unusual bluebird was plodding along. The wind had driven him from his tree slamming his protected nest to the ground and dashing it upon frozen rocks obliterating it. The tempestuous wind, bitter cold, and light snow had encrusted his small wings and dappled white breast with frost and he could no longer fly; his tail feathers drooped from the weight of tiny icicles hanging like frozen fangs and weighing it down; so he walked. He tried to periodically flap his wings but they only rose about half way when the tiny ice particles, embedded in the down like feathers near his skin, would dig in, threatening to puncture him and he would pull them close so as to not lose too much heat. Yet on he trod. He walked with determination, he walked on, his will his only strength. Food was scarce here on the ground and the seeds, nuts, dried bugs, and grain that lined his nest were destroyed along with that humble, yet comfortable, abode, dashed and twisted scattered by the uncaring wind and blown away. He was reaching the edge of the wondrous wood he called home. He had never ventured beyond its realm but he was desperate, tired, hungry and cold. The trees were thinning and he saw the long incline, a small trail of packed snow fitting it's edge, and hopping along his strange webbed feet leaving odd tracks in the snow and frost until he reached this path. He stopped a moment and reflected.
The top of the rise was the gateway to the odd and strange, square built, dangerous, noisy, threatening, home of men. He had heard horror stories, when still a fledgling, about many a bird raised here only to end up in a pot of boiling water, or to be cut to pieces and burnt over a fire to satisfy the hunger of men. The place of men held the terror of the seemingly friendly canine and the sure slow death of the cruelly playful feline; worse still was the certain kind of small one who reveled in the torturing of creatures unto their horrid death to satisfy their own twisted glee -but only for a short while.
Shaking very hard, all over, and flapping his wings he was able to dislodge some of the ice from his pinions; he might be able to shuffle fly short distances but still could not take to the sky. He carefully preened under each pinion and was able to remove some of the tiny dagger like shards of ice there and devoured them hungrily as his thirst was great. The bluebird could only take so much snow in it's beak and try to wait until it would turn to water but this yielded only a few light sips before the cold liquid seemed to burn it's way down through his gizzard. The tiny ice shards, he preened, melted more quickly and somehow didn't seem as cold. His dry tongue savored each drop as it lovingly ran down his throat as he warily eyed the top of the rise. The wind rose and rolling down the rise covered him with light snow it's chill reinforcing his slide to slow and certain death. He had no other choice.
Walking in an odd, almost comical, stilted, waddle the bluebird topped the rise. He was instantly filled with fear from the dreadful din. Humans were banging on banging things, tiny ones were scattered and running about, laughing, jeering, crying, jesting. Other large humans were pushing odd boxes on wheels full of delightful food he could only dream of. Reflexively the bird shuffled behind a nearby barrel, just down the entry to a small alley, when the boy came round the corner and caught his eye as he eyed him! A small human he was certainly. His ragged britches trailed their legs over his small calves exposed amongst their tatters. His small, brown, coarse woven shirt didn't even hold the worm like sinew that should have held it shut. His carefree smile was bright and cheerful. His small, freckled, nose seemed to somehow accent his deep blue eyes. Above them his brown mane hung out shaggy and uncut and he wore an odd hat, made of the same coarse woven cloth, but green, that had a tie around it, that somehow accentuated the jaunty and endearing nature of the child. The bird took an instant and inexplicable liking to this wee one. He carried some odd round contraption, that looked like the top was covered with cured rabbit skin, and held two stout twigs in one hand; the round contraption was hanging by a strap from his shoulder.
Suddenly the boy's smile was gone and clouds gathered in his eyes as he looked down upon the suffering bluebird. Slowly, and oh so softly, with only the tender gentleness that small children can command, he reached downward toward him.
Alarm filled the bluebird and his tiny heart was working triple time but even the adrenaline rush he was getting was just not enough for him to fight or flee; he was just too cold, too frozen, too tired, and actually backed up against an odd square structure that looked like it was made from trees, trapped between the barrel and the tiny Inn. The bluebird's heart was slowing and he resigned himself, stoically, to whatever fate befell him.
The tiny hand touched the bird so lovingly that he was relieved and warmed by it. The boy, unstrapping his drum, set it on the ground with it's sticks and placing both hands around the bluebird lovingly pulled it closer to him saying, "Ohh you poor tiny half frozen half dead little bird. I know how you feel. I know how you feel."
He softly drew the bird close to his bosom and placing one arm around him began to make disapproving sounds.
"Tsk, tsk, TSK my little friend. Stay by my side and we will warm each other."
The frozen wind wafted the smell of cooking human food and the bird eyed the bulging sacks next to the inn that surely held some bird preferred seed or grain but he was just too tired to try for them. Tiny hands were brushing the ice off his breast and wings and as those deep blue eyes held up one of his wings a look, like the look in the eyes of a mother bird when a tiny one falls from her nest to its death, was there. The ice under the bird’s wings was just too thick for the boy to remove without hurting his small charge and they both instinctively knew it. So he lightly held the bird close to his tiny chest and the bird could feel an odd thumping rhythm and warmth, sweet and tangible, healing and sweet was reaching him slowly.
Suddenly a large male human came around the corner roaring at them both! Their hearts sped up in unison.
"You there boy!" the man growled. Haven't I told you not to..."
Before he could finish with a dexterous speed and amazing agility the boy picked up his drum, strung the strap over his shoulder, while still holding his sticks, and tucking the bluebird under his arm fled with the speed of the young. They had no trouble eluding the large human but they were now heading out of the village. The day was growing dim and the icy wind was penetrating and cruel. There was a small hill before them and as they reached its bottom heavy, wet, large, flakes of snow began to fall, the wind sending them like a coating of flour over boy and bird. The little one's shirt was becoming stiff with ice and clumps of the frozen substance were forming in his hair. He gingerly placed the blue bird under his worn shirt.
Then, unnoticed by them both, as they topped the hill was a tiny blacksmith shop. There was a barn attached to it and the smoke from the smith's fire drew them both since they new it meant warmth...yet the boy hesitated. Then, from out of the snow-blown wind, another large male approached. He was wrapped in fur and large of stature. The well-muscled man had completely surprised them both and with one quick, strong, swoop, had picked them both up, drum and all, and was carrying them toward the barn. His embrace was strong but gentle.
The large side door of the barn swung open slowly. There, just inside the barn, was a large female human. Her dark hair and eyes, and small waist, were marked by a beauty that even a bird could see. The same clouded look that the small one had, earlier, or something very like it, was there. Plain and direct, intense and moving, emotional and alarmed she briskly waved the large man inside and quickly closed the door behind them all.
Inside the structure there was at least heat. Straw was strewn about on the ground and in a large pile and one ox, a pig, a lamb, two cows, a dog and two cats sat enthralled looking toward a small semi-enclosed fence like structure. They couldn't see what was inside this small corral. The smithy set them down lightly just inside the door; cold wind was coming in from the outside but it was no match for the interior warmth.
Off, in the corner were a tremendous hearth, an anvil, bellows, and a fireplace ablaze with soothing flame. A metal stand held a large cauldron that held some steaming boiling liquid. The border of his area was marked by a ring of old ash to protect the dry straw from harm. The large male human was shedding his fur! He was extremely well muscled and his dark brown hair and eyes lent his roman nose an air of dignity belying his physical strength. His firm jaw was inset by well-shaped lips and his beard was short and well kept. His dark eyes danced and shined. The boy recognized the Smithy but the bird, peeking out of the cut where the tie should have been on his ragged shirt, only saw a big male human and thought the large one must eat a lot and hoped they weren't doomed! He just knew they were bound for the boiling water torture and death! The large female was coming near! She held a large fuzzy cloth (surely it was the killing cloth!) and drawing up in front of the boy spoke to him.
"Well my little man. You appear to be just about frozen and soaking wet." She reached out gently and removed his ragged hat and holding it in one hand gripping the towel she began to gently dry the small one's head fur! The bird could sense the care and love of her touch by the reaction of his newfound friend. She continued to dry the boy and when she reached inside his shirt, drying his small breast, she touched the bird who reflexively jumped. She jumped back with a cry of surprise a puzzled look on her face. The bird gingerly stuck out his small wet and icy head, tiny black eyes darting around in fear.
The woman began to laugh and reaching slowly she scooped up the bluebird in her hands. Her hands were caressing and gently warm and inviting. Then she said something again.
"My word! What in the world are you doing in there Mr. Bluebird?" Her joviality and glee was genuine and endearing. Taking the other end of the towel she dabbed lightly on the birds head drying it. He was trapped! Or was he? The cage of her hands did not hold him with the angering threat of harm but mildly. She began to walk toward the hearth! She spoke again, as if to no one - as if to everyone- but she was actually talking to him!
"Now, now, I won't harm you. Look here." She drew close to the hearth and there were many sheaves of herbs, fruits, and grains, hanging above and around it so the flame would not harm them. She reached up and taking down a bundle of some kind of earthy smelling herbs she placed them on the mantle and revealed that it was on a metal hoop with a small cup at the bottom. She unhooked the cup and looking around found a small clean bowl on the table and emptied the herbs, still holding the bluebird under her left arm close to her bosom. The bluebird suddenly was feeling warmer and remembered the sanctuary of his own mother's wing and began to relax. She slowly lifted the bluebird up and set him on the hoop. He instantly grasped his newfound perch the warmth of the fire heartening and thawing him. She turned and holding out her apron shook one of the bundles of grain and seeds and grain fell into her apron. She scooped them up and placed them in the cup and hooked it back onto the hoop.
"There now Mr. Bluebird...dinner is served!" Suddenly the large male, the little boy and the woman were full of mirth and laughter hung like ripe fruit upon the air. The bird started to peck at the grain. It was dried and nutty and just sweet enough! He engaged it enthusiastically.
While the bluebird ate the woman returned to the boy and man. The boy had finished drying himself. Looking at her husband with love and then so tenderly at the boy she spoke again.
"Come boy, come join us, and you will see yet a smaller man and his parents who came to us the day before yesterday." She took one hand of the boy and one hand of the Smith and began to walk them to the corral one of the cows mooing as they drew near. Getting closer the boy could see inside the enclosure.
There was a woman and a man there. Their clothes were plain but clean. Beneath them in a shortened and remade water trough was a baby wrapped in cloth. Surrounding him were three open chests. One had gold in it! The second contained some substance the boy had never seen. He recognized the contents of the third chest. It was incense and he had often seen the village priest burning it when he joined him at services.
Then the baby's eyes met the boy's.
The boy was filled with a feeling of love and joy that should have overwhelmed him but did not. The baby sat up, a little, smiling, his eyes alight with a glow and he nodded to the boy, smiling, then laid his head down upon the straw in his bed and looking at his parents, then at the woman, then at the Smith he looked knowingly at the boy and made a nearly imperceptible nod. The babe was looking right into the boy's eyes and though he wasn't smiling everyone else was except the boy. All eyes were upon the boy. Suddenly the bluebird took flight from his new perch, still, a little dirty, but dry and well fed, and landed lightly on the boy's shoulder. Then it hit him. The boy -and everyone else- knew what he should do.
The young child ran and found his drum, the bluebird flapping lightly but feet firmly fixed upon his shoulder, and he took it back to the opening in the corral. He set the drum down on the ground before the open gate and withdrawing the sticks looked up in expectancy. The beautiful woman, and the plain one, both nodded to him smiling gently...so he gathered his courage and resolve, bowed low, and then began to play.
The livestock began to sway to his beginning beat, slow, even, and smooth. He played on, drumming, fast and hard, drumming slow and gently, and finished up with a long pronounced drum roll (the first he had ever played) and one mighty strike on the head with finality.
The babe looked up and smiled so beautifully. The adults began to laugh and applaud and cheer! The animals joined in that odd mooing, barking, meowing, mixing with the singing of the bluebird like some fantastic choral, joyous, thankful, cheerful, and loving until they all were out of breath and had to pause a moment. The plain man and woman were yawning. They looked down upon the infant and he was peacefully sleeping on the hay filled make shift crib.
The woman went quickly to a small cupboard and took a stack of bowls and some wooden spoons and put them on the table. She began to gingerly ladle out the soup she had been cooking. While she served up the dinner the Smith walked to the small cupboard and took out a large, round, loaf of bread, and a knife and by the time he had placed the bread on the table, the knife sticking up out of the center of it in invitation, the gorgeous dark woman sang out.
"It's time to ee-eat!"
The man and plain woman were emerging from the corral looking back expectantly. The woman quickly took two bowls of soup, one in each hand, grasping a spoon around the bottom of each bowl. She took the bowls to the man and his wife. The Smith plucked the knife from the bread and cutting two healthy slices followed his wife and gave it to the man and woman who withdrew into the stall.
They quickly returned to the table. The boy's stomach was rumbling but he had such a big smile on his face!
The Smith reached out, so did the woman, and they instinctively joined hands man, woman and boy. The man and woman were watching from the edge of the corral then shut their eyes and bowed their heads. This time the Smithy spoke. His voice was a deep smooth bassoon like sound somehow strong yet light.
"God: thank you for the gifts you have provided for us, bless, them, bless us, and make us holy. Amen."
The visitors withdrew into their cubbyhole and the Smith, his wife, and the boy sat upon makeshift crates and barrels and ate well.
When dinner was done the boy went, without being asked, and retrieved the bowls and spoons from the visitors; the baby was still sleeping deeply.
He joined the gorgeous woman who was putting bowls and wooden spoons into a large, wooden, tub. She covered it with a cloth for keeping until water could be heated in the morning. Glancing over the young one she saw the livestock was all asleep!
The beautiful woman and the strong Smith led the boy to a spot near the fireplace. There were two mats and two blankets there by the hearth.
The woman walked over to a dark corner of the shed and returned with a smaller mat and blanket and unrolled it, placing it between the two others, and then she leaned over slowly and kissed the boy's cheek. Her kiss was like receiving a feeling of light, peace, contentment, joy and love, and looking down, lovingly, she took the bluebird from the boy's shoulder and placed him on his perch. Then she spoke to the man and boy.
"It is time that we all get some rest."
The Smith replied, "Aye".
Taking the hands of the boy and the Smith she spoke yet again.
"We thank thee Father for this day and all the days you have given us. We thank you for the food you provide. God bless our home and hearth; God bless our visiting family and their handsome babe; God bless Ogar, and Melina, our home, animals, and land. God bless the bluebird you have sent to us today and God Bless this little boy."
The man, the boy, the lady, and the bluebird were suddenly near tears...tears of joy. So they each lay upon their respective mats and pulling the blankets up snugly around them, the bluebird tucking his head under a wing, all fell quickly into a deep, restful, undreaming sleep.
The morning sun was streaming through a few openings between the boards of the barn's ceiling and walls. A ray of light reflected off the knife, still on the table from last night's meal, and reflected back across the opening. There were three mats on the floor but they were unoccupied. Another sunbeam burst through and landed upon a small spot on the haystack. The boy slowly opened his eyes, from beneath the layer of straw, and the sunbeam struck just under them awakening him. He started and the Smith, and his wife, instantly bolted up hay flying looking around. As they slowly rose from the hay not one strand stuck to them. Looking at each other they were dumbfounded. The smith was clean and wearing a brand new, thick, green shirt, new leather britches, and had on what looked like a brand new pair of black boots! His hair was shiny and spotless; he wore a brand new long, black, leather, Smithy's apron. Then his gaze turned upon his dear wife. She had on a new dress! It was blue and the embroidered neck and sleeves were golden. Her hair was pulled back and gleaming, a scent, of strawberries coming from it, and she wore new sturdy brown leather and doeskin shoes! They looked at each other in surprise, amazement, and wonder.
The boy stood up from the haystack. His shirt was rejuvenated complete with tie string the smell of newness met their noses. His tattered pants were replaced with long, snug fitting, thick cloth pants and he was wearing a new pair of black shoes, similar, somehow, to the Smithy's boots. The boy looked down and there, before him, on the ground was a brand new drum with real drumsticks! It was made of stained teak wood and ram's skin top. There were carvings all around the drum of the barn, a boy, a man, a woman, some cattle, and a tiny bird.
They all turned, at once, and running to the corral found it was empty.
Then there was a flutter of wings and the blue bird flew toward them, specifically, toward the boy. His feathers looked freshly preened and were spotless. Some aspect of his slightly open beak and piercing dark eyes shared in a knowledge that they all held in their hearts but were afraid to speak about. The bird lit gently on the small boys shoulder and nodded down twice. There, on the ground, was a leather hat, complete with a hatband. The hatband had a metal icon at the crown; it was a blue bird perched upon a drumstick.
The woman looked at her husband and they embraced and kissed. Turning her healing gaze of love to the boy she spoke to him as her eyes met his then slowly wandered to the bluebird.
"You know what you both have to do; don't you?" It was a rhetorical question but the boy was so taken by the statuesque beauty he only nodded once.
"Yes, I -we do."
The Smithy, and his good wife, walked to the large double doors of the stable and pulling back its bar they slowly opened the doors. It was cold but most of the snow had melted! There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun shone warmly down upon them.
The boy gingerly rubbed his nose on the bluebird's beak as the bird nuzzled back. He slowly walked out onto the wet, near frozen ground, patches of snow around, as the Blacksmith and his wife stood behind them arms wrapped about each other. Sunlight glistened off the bird’s pristine feathers and the boy slowly raised his right hand and the bluebird flew onto it immediately.
The boy's softly spoken words of love fell upon the air as the Smith and his wife looked on heart's welling up with emotion.
"Go now.... be happy.... be free!"
The bluebird began to sing and took flight. He raised high into that clear blue sky the humans below waving goodbye. The beaming sun shone down upon him warm and reviving. There was a feeling of peace and contentment in that small blue breast. He flew with a certain hope, he flew with a certain joy, he flew just to be flying.
Dictated lovingly by Yardbyrd to his attentive and loyal assistant James.
It was one of those days when the wind was cold and strong but the sun was strong and bright. Snow still fell lightly dancing in flurries on the already covered land; it danced with a certain hope, it danced with a certain, joy, it danced just to be dancing.
Walking slowly in the snow an unusual bluebird was plodding along. The wind had driven him from his tree slamming his protected nest to the ground and dashing it upon frozen rocks obliterating it. The tempestuous wind, bitter cold, and light snow had encrusted his small wings and dappled white breast with frost and he could no longer fly; his tail feathers drooped from the weight of tiny icicles hanging like frozen fangs and weighing it down; so he walked. He tried to periodically flap his wings but they only rose about half way when the tiny ice particles, embedded in the down like feathers near his skin, would dig in, threatening to puncture him and he would pull them close so as to not lose too much heat. Yet on he trod. He walked with determination, he walked on, his will his only strength. Food was scarce here on the ground and the seeds, nuts, dried bugs, and grain that lined his nest were destroyed along with that humble, yet comfortable, abode, dashed and twisted scattered by the uncaring wind and blown away. He was reaching the edge of the wondrous wood he called home. He had never ventured beyond its realm but he was desperate, tired, hungry and cold. The trees were thinning and he saw the long incline, a small trail of packed snow fitting it's edge, and hopping along his strange webbed feet leaving odd tracks in the snow and frost until he reached this path. He stopped a moment and reflected.
The top of the rise was the gateway to the odd and strange, square built, dangerous, noisy, threatening, home of men. He had heard horror stories, when still a fledgling, about many a bird raised here only to end up in a pot of boiling water, or to be cut to pieces and burnt over a fire to satisfy the hunger of men. The place of men held the terror of the seemingly friendly canine and the sure slow death of the cruelly playful feline; worse still was the certain kind of small one who reveled in the torturing of creatures unto their horrid death to satisfy their own twisted glee -but only for a short while.
Shaking very hard, all over, and flapping his wings he was able to dislodge some of the ice from his pinions; he might be able to shuffle fly short distances but still could not take to the sky. He carefully preened under each pinion and was able to remove some of the tiny dagger like shards of ice there and devoured them hungrily as his thirst was great. The bluebird could only take so much snow in it's beak and try to wait until it would turn to water but this yielded only a few light sips before the cold liquid seemed to burn it's way down through his gizzard. The tiny ice shards, he preened, melted more quickly and somehow didn't seem as cold. His dry tongue savored each drop as it lovingly ran down his throat as he warily eyed the top of the rise. The wind rose and rolling down the rise covered him with light snow it's chill reinforcing his slide to slow and certain death. He had no other choice.
Walking in an odd, almost comical, stilted, waddle the bluebird topped the rise. He was instantly filled with fear from the dreadful din. Humans were banging on banging things, tiny ones were scattered and running about, laughing, jeering, crying, jesting. Other large humans were pushing odd boxes on wheels full of delightful food he could only dream of. Reflexively the bird shuffled behind a nearby barrel, just down the entry to a small alley, when the boy came round the corner and caught his eye as he eyed him! A small human he was certainly. His ragged britches trailed their legs over his small calves exposed amongst their tatters. His small, brown, coarse woven shirt didn't even hold the worm like sinew that should have held it shut. His carefree smile was bright and cheerful. His small, freckled, nose seemed to somehow accent his deep blue eyes. Above them his brown mane hung out shaggy and uncut and he wore an odd hat, made of the same coarse woven cloth, but green, that had a tie around it, that somehow accentuated the jaunty and endearing nature of the child. The bird took an instant and inexplicable liking to this wee one. He carried some odd round contraption, that looked like the top was covered with cured rabbit skin, and held two stout twigs in one hand; the round contraption was hanging by a strap from his shoulder.
Suddenly the boy's smile was gone and clouds gathered in his eyes as he looked down upon the suffering bluebird. Slowly, and oh so softly, with only the tender gentleness that small children can command, he reached downward toward him.
Alarm filled the bluebird and his tiny heart was working triple time but even the adrenaline rush he was getting was just not enough for him to fight or flee; he was just too cold, too frozen, too tired, and actually backed up against an odd square structure that looked like it was made from trees, trapped between the barrel and the tiny Inn. The bluebird's heart was slowing and he resigned himself, stoically, to whatever fate befell him.
The tiny hand touched the bird so lovingly that he was relieved and warmed by it. The boy, unstrapping his drum, set it on the ground with it's sticks and placing both hands around the bluebird lovingly pulled it closer to him saying, "Ohh you poor tiny half frozen half dead little bird. I know how you feel. I know how you feel."
He softly drew the bird close to his bosom and placing one arm around him began to make disapproving sounds.
"Tsk, tsk, TSK my little friend. Stay by my side and we will warm each other."
The frozen wind wafted the smell of cooking human food and the bird eyed the bulging sacks next to the inn that surely held some bird preferred seed or grain but he was just too tired to try for them. Tiny hands were brushing the ice off his breast and wings and as those deep blue eyes held up one of his wings a look, like the look in the eyes of a mother bird when a tiny one falls from her nest to its death, was there. The ice under the bird’s wings was just too thick for the boy to remove without hurting his small charge and they both instinctively knew it. So he lightly held the bird close to his tiny chest and the bird could feel an odd thumping rhythm and warmth, sweet and tangible, healing and sweet was reaching him slowly.
Suddenly a large male human came around the corner roaring at them both! Their hearts sped up in unison.
"You there boy!" the man growled. Haven't I told you not to..."
Before he could finish with a dexterous speed and amazing agility the boy picked up his drum, strung the strap over his shoulder, while still holding his sticks, and tucking the bluebird under his arm fled with the speed of the young. They had no trouble eluding the large human but they were now heading out of the village. The day was growing dim and the icy wind was penetrating and cruel. There was a small hill before them and as they reached its bottom heavy, wet, large, flakes of snow began to fall, the wind sending them like a coating of flour over boy and bird. The little one's shirt was becoming stiff with ice and clumps of the frozen substance were forming in his hair. He gingerly placed the blue bird under his worn shirt.
Then, unnoticed by them both, as they topped the hill was a tiny blacksmith shop. There was a barn attached to it and the smoke from the smith's fire drew them both since they new it meant warmth...yet the boy hesitated. Then, from out of the snow-blown wind, another large male approached. He was wrapped in fur and large of stature. The well-muscled man had completely surprised them both and with one quick, strong, swoop, had picked them both up, drum and all, and was carrying them toward the barn. His embrace was strong but gentle.
The large side door of the barn swung open slowly. There, just inside the barn, was a large female human. Her dark hair and eyes, and small waist, were marked by a beauty that even a bird could see. The same clouded look that the small one had, earlier, or something very like it, was there. Plain and direct, intense and moving, emotional and alarmed she briskly waved the large man inside and quickly closed the door behind them all.
Inside the structure there was at least heat. Straw was strewn about on the ground and in a large pile and one ox, a pig, a lamb, two cows, a dog and two cats sat enthralled looking toward a small semi-enclosed fence like structure. They couldn't see what was inside this small corral. The smithy set them down lightly just inside the door; cold wind was coming in from the outside but it was no match for the interior warmth.
Off, in the corner were a tremendous hearth, an anvil, bellows, and a fireplace ablaze with soothing flame. A metal stand held a large cauldron that held some steaming boiling liquid. The border of his area was marked by a ring of old ash to protect the dry straw from harm. The large male human was shedding his fur! He was extremely well muscled and his dark brown hair and eyes lent his roman nose an air of dignity belying his physical strength. His firm jaw was inset by well-shaped lips and his beard was short and well kept. His dark eyes danced and shined. The boy recognized the Smithy but the bird, peeking out of the cut where the tie should have been on his ragged shirt, only saw a big male human and thought the large one must eat a lot and hoped they weren't doomed! He just knew they were bound for the boiling water torture and death! The large female was coming near! She held a large fuzzy cloth (surely it was the killing cloth!) and drawing up in front of the boy spoke to him.
"Well my little man. You appear to be just about frozen and soaking wet." She reached out gently and removed his ragged hat and holding it in one hand gripping the towel she began to gently dry the small one's head fur! The bird could sense the care and love of her touch by the reaction of his newfound friend. She continued to dry the boy and when she reached inside his shirt, drying his small breast, she touched the bird who reflexively jumped. She jumped back with a cry of surprise a puzzled look on her face. The bird gingerly stuck out his small wet and icy head, tiny black eyes darting around in fear.
The woman began to laugh and reaching slowly she scooped up the bluebird in her hands. Her hands were caressing and gently warm and inviting. Then she said something again.
"My word! What in the world are you doing in there Mr. Bluebird?" Her joviality and glee was genuine and endearing. Taking the other end of the towel she dabbed lightly on the birds head drying it. He was trapped! Or was he? The cage of her hands did not hold him with the angering threat of harm but mildly. She began to walk toward the hearth! She spoke again, as if to no one - as if to everyone- but she was actually talking to him!
"Now, now, I won't harm you. Look here." She drew close to the hearth and there were many sheaves of herbs, fruits, and grains, hanging above and around it so the flame would not harm them. She reached up and taking down a bundle of some kind of earthy smelling herbs she placed them on the mantle and revealed that it was on a metal hoop with a small cup at the bottom. She unhooked the cup and looking around found a small clean bowl on the table and emptied the herbs, still holding the bluebird under her left arm close to her bosom. The bluebird suddenly was feeling warmer and remembered the sanctuary of his own mother's wing and began to relax. She slowly lifted the bluebird up and set him on the hoop. He instantly grasped his newfound perch the warmth of the fire heartening and thawing him. She turned and holding out her apron shook one of the bundles of grain and seeds and grain fell into her apron. She scooped them up and placed them in the cup and hooked it back onto the hoop.
"There now Mr. Bluebird...dinner is served!" Suddenly the large male, the little boy and the woman were full of mirth and laughter hung like ripe fruit upon the air. The bird started to peck at the grain. It was dried and nutty and just sweet enough! He engaged it enthusiastically.
While the bluebird ate the woman returned to the boy and man. The boy had finished drying himself. Looking at her husband with love and then so tenderly at the boy she spoke again.
"Come boy, come join us, and you will see yet a smaller man and his parents who came to us the day before yesterday." She took one hand of the boy and one hand of the Smith and began to walk them to the corral one of the cows mooing as they drew near. Getting closer the boy could see inside the enclosure.
There was a woman and a man there. Their clothes were plain but clean. Beneath them in a shortened and remade water trough was a baby wrapped in cloth. Surrounding him were three open chests. One had gold in it! The second contained some substance the boy had never seen. He recognized the contents of the third chest. It was incense and he had often seen the village priest burning it when he joined him at services.
Then the baby's eyes met the boy's.
The boy was filled with a feeling of love and joy that should have overwhelmed him but did not. The baby sat up, a little, smiling, his eyes alight with a glow and he nodded to the boy, smiling, then laid his head down upon the straw in his bed and looking at his parents, then at the woman, then at the Smith he looked knowingly at the boy and made a nearly imperceptible nod. The babe was looking right into the boy's eyes and though he wasn't smiling everyone else was except the boy. All eyes were upon the boy. Suddenly the bluebird took flight from his new perch, still, a little dirty, but dry and well fed, and landed lightly on the boy's shoulder. Then it hit him. The boy -and everyone else- knew what he should do.
The young child ran and found his drum, the bluebird flapping lightly but feet firmly fixed upon his shoulder, and he took it back to the opening in the corral. He set the drum down on the ground before the open gate and withdrawing the sticks looked up in expectancy. The beautiful woman, and the plain one, both nodded to him smiling gently...so he gathered his courage and resolve, bowed low, and then began to play.
The livestock began to sway to his beginning beat, slow, even, and smooth. He played on, drumming, fast and hard, drumming slow and gently, and finished up with a long pronounced drum roll (the first he had ever played) and one mighty strike on the head with finality.
The babe looked up and smiled so beautifully. The adults began to laugh and applaud and cheer! The animals joined in that odd mooing, barking, meowing, mixing with the singing of the bluebird like some fantastic choral, joyous, thankful, cheerful, and loving until they all were out of breath and had to pause a moment. The plain man and woman were yawning. They looked down upon the infant and he was peacefully sleeping on the hay filled make shift crib.
The woman went quickly to a small cupboard and took a stack of bowls and some wooden spoons and put them on the table. She began to gingerly ladle out the soup she had been cooking. While she served up the dinner the Smith walked to the small cupboard and took out a large, round, loaf of bread, and a knife and by the time he had placed the bread on the table, the knife sticking up out of the center of it in invitation, the gorgeous dark woman sang out.
"It's time to ee-eat!"
The man and plain woman were emerging from the corral looking back expectantly. The woman quickly took two bowls of soup, one in each hand, grasping a spoon around the bottom of each bowl. She took the bowls to the man and his wife. The Smith plucked the knife from the bread and cutting two healthy slices followed his wife and gave it to the man and woman who withdrew into the stall.
They quickly returned to the table. The boy's stomach was rumbling but he had such a big smile on his face!
The Smith reached out, so did the woman, and they instinctively joined hands man, woman and boy. The man and woman were watching from the edge of the corral then shut their eyes and bowed their heads. This time the Smithy spoke. His voice was a deep smooth bassoon like sound somehow strong yet light.
"God: thank you for the gifts you have provided for us, bless, them, bless us, and make us holy. Amen."
The visitors withdrew into their cubbyhole and the Smith, his wife, and the boy sat upon makeshift crates and barrels and ate well.
When dinner was done the boy went, without being asked, and retrieved the bowls and spoons from the visitors; the baby was still sleeping deeply.
He joined the gorgeous woman who was putting bowls and wooden spoons into a large, wooden, tub. She covered it with a cloth for keeping until water could be heated in the morning. Glancing over the young one she saw the livestock was all asleep!
The beautiful woman and the strong Smith led the boy to a spot near the fireplace. There were two mats and two blankets there by the hearth.
The woman walked over to a dark corner of the shed and returned with a smaller mat and blanket and unrolled it, placing it between the two others, and then she leaned over slowly and kissed the boy's cheek. Her kiss was like receiving a feeling of light, peace, contentment, joy and love, and looking down, lovingly, she took the bluebird from the boy's shoulder and placed him on his perch. Then she spoke to the man and boy.
"It is time that we all get some rest."
The Smith replied, "Aye".
Taking the hands of the boy and the Smith she spoke yet again.
"We thank thee Father for this day and all the days you have given us. We thank you for the food you provide. God bless our home and hearth; God bless our visiting family and their handsome babe; God bless Ogar, and Melina, our home, animals, and land. God bless the bluebird you have sent to us today and God Bless this little boy."
The man, the boy, the lady, and the bluebird were suddenly near tears...tears of joy. So they each lay upon their respective mats and pulling the blankets up snugly around them, the bluebird tucking his head under a wing, all fell quickly into a deep, restful, undreaming sleep.
The morning sun was streaming through a few openings between the boards of the barn's ceiling and walls. A ray of light reflected off the knife, still on the table from last night's meal, and reflected back across the opening. There were three mats on the floor but they were unoccupied. Another sunbeam burst through and landed upon a small spot on the haystack. The boy slowly opened his eyes, from beneath the layer of straw, and the sunbeam struck just under them awakening him. He started and the Smith, and his wife, instantly bolted up hay flying looking around. As they slowly rose from the hay not one strand stuck to them. Looking at each other they were dumbfounded. The smith was clean and wearing a brand new, thick, green shirt, new leather britches, and had on what looked like a brand new pair of black boots! His hair was shiny and spotless; he wore a brand new long, black, leather, Smithy's apron. Then his gaze turned upon his dear wife. She had on a new dress! It was blue and the embroidered neck and sleeves were golden. Her hair was pulled back and gleaming, a scent, of strawberries coming from it, and she wore new sturdy brown leather and doeskin shoes! They looked at each other in surprise, amazement, and wonder.
The boy stood up from the haystack. His shirt was rejuvenated complete with tie string the smell of newness met their noses. His tattered pants were replaced with long, snug fitting, thick cloth pants and he was wearing a new pair of black shoes, similar, somehow, to the Smithy's boots. The boy looked down and there, before him, on the ground was a brand new drum with real drumsticks! It was made of stained teak wood and ram's skin top. There were carvings all around the drum of the barn, a boy, a man, a woman, some cattle, and a tiny bird.
They all turned, at once, and running to the corral found it was empty.
Then there was a flutter of wings and the blue bird flew toward them, specifically, toward the boy. His feathers looked freshly preened and were spotless. Some aspect of his slightly open beak and piercing dark eyes shared in a knowledge that they all held in their hearts but were afraid to speak about. The bird lit gently on the small boys shoulder and nodded down twice. There, on the ground, was a leather hat, complete with a hatband. The hatband had a metal icon at the crown; it was a blue bird perched upon a drumstick.
The woman looked at her husband and they embraced and kissed. Turning her healing gaze of love to the boy she spoke to him as her eyes met his then slowly wandered to the bluebird.
"You know what you both have to do; don't you?" It was a rhetorical question but the boy was so taken by the statuesque beauty he only nodded once.
"Yes, I -we do."
The Smithy, and his good wife, walked to the large double doors of the stable and pulling back its bar they slowly opened the doors. It was cold but most of the snow had melted! There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun shone warmly down upon them.
The boy gingerly rubbed his nose on the bluebird's beak as the bird nuzzled back. He slowly walked out onto the wet, near frozen ground, patches of snow around, as the Blacksmith and his wife stood behind them arms wrapped about each other. Sunlight glistened off the bird’s pristine feathers and the boy slowly raised his right hand and the bluebird flew onto it immediately.
The boy's softly spoken words of love fell upon the air as the Smith and his wife looked on heart's welling up with emotion.
"Go now.... be happy.... be free!"
The bluebird began to sing and took flight. He raised high into that clear blue sky the humans below waving goodbye. The beaming sun shone down upon him warm and reviving. There was a feeling of peace and contentment in that small blue breast. He flew with a certain hope, he flew with a certain joy, he flew just to be flying.
