And The Spirit of Creation called together all the birds to one place that he might talk with them. They all broke forth into song in the glory of his presence. After a minute or so, he raised his hand and they fell silent. "I am pleased that you honor me with your song! You sing very beautifully, and therefore it will be appointed to you to be the singers of my new creation, to make happiness in the air and send gladness to the ears of my creatures. But that was not YOUR song! That was one that the angels taught you at dawn of the seventh day, (if I'm not mistaken.) I will go away for three days, and while I'm gone, I want each of you, according to his kind, to compose your own little song, so that when you sing, you will be singing your own song, and thus you will sing with the uttermost fullness of your spirit." So God left them and went about his other business for three days, and each bird worked to come up with a good song for his pleasure. Robin made up his song, Bluebird made one for himself and his kind, Sparrow and Lark and the finches... all finally had their songs ready. Some were frankly not so good. Bluejay, being primarily occupied with bullying the other birds around, just had a raucous screech for his song. Others were of surpassing beauty, such as that of the nightingale, and poor whipoorwhil, who was always missing someone. All had their songs in readiness to sing for creation, except for one bird. He listened carefully to all the other birds songs, hoping to borrow a trill here and a phrase there, but he just couldn't arrive at a song that expressed himself. (Also, it didn't help matters that the other birds were constantly singing their tunes, such that all he could hear was their songs and not his own.) He admired the songs of the other birds, and wished that he could write one that was his own. He worked and worked, but to no avail. He just didn't seem to have the knack of expressing himself. He became very sad. He wasn't worried that God would be mad at him, for he, as all creatures, knew that God was a spirit of love and generosity. But therefore he was afraid that God would be disappointed with him, and no creature wants to bring even the faintest possibility of the merest hint of sadness into Gods world or Gods heart (only Man could do that). God eventually returned, and bade each of the birds to sing the song that they had composed. He listened with a smile on his face, for though some songs sounded better than others, and some were longer and some were very short, each expressed the spirit of the bird that sang it, and to God, the spirit of a thing is what counts the most. The bird that didn't have a song just sort of hung out in the back of the crowd, hoping that God wouldn't notice him. He shuffled around a lot, and managed to keep himself in the midst of the crowd so that he wouldn't draw attention to himself. "Hey, have you gone on yet?" asked one bird of him. "Um, yeah, um, I sang yesterday evening." he lied. "When are you up?" asked another. "Oh, I'm not scheduled yet." he said. But God did notice. He didn't create a whole tapestry of life without being one to pay attention to details. He let the little fellow slide as long as he could, but finally, all the birds had aired their melodies except him, and God had no choice but to call on him. He got up before God and started to try and improvise. He was so scared! But all he managed to do was to duplicate the robins song. "Oops. I'm sorry God. I got Robins song mixed up with mine. Let me try again." God smiled and nodded for him to go ahead. He was shaking now, and very nervous. He coughed a couple of times, and then began again to try and just sing anything to get it over with. As soon as he had done so, he realized that once again, he had copied someone else's song, this time Meadowlarks. In a very small shaky voice, he said "Oh! I somehow got Meadowlarks song by accident." But he could take no more. He began to cry. He couldn't help it! Now he was even more embarassed because he was crying, and his spirit was broken. God smiled his tenderest smile and went over and sat next to the miserable little guy. He made himself small and put his arm around the birds shoulder. "Hey man, don't cry, it's not that bad. Come on, cheer up! I thought it was kind of funny, you doing those perfect imitations of Robin and Meadowlark. That was good!" The little bird looked over, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. "But God, I don't have a song for you. I've let you down." He started to cry some more. God said "No you didn't. Look here, I of all people should know that each creature has his abilities and his limitations. Some are better at some things than others are. Some creatures just have a harder time expressing themselves, like yourself. But you know what that means to me? It only means that you listen that much better to what others are saying, or in this case, singing. The world needs listeners as much as it needs singers. What good would all these other birds songs be if there were no ears to hear them? You not only listened very well to the other birds songs, but you sung them as perfectly as those birds themselves. If I weren't looking right at you, I would have sworn that it was Robin doing his number. That's a marvelous ability! I bet you can do some other ones too. See if you can remember Chicadees song." The little bird was still a little choked up, so he pretended to think about it for a minute, till he could get his breathing under control, then he said "I think so, let me see". He fired off Chicadees song with no problem. "Hey Chicadee, come over here!" said God. Chicadee hopped over to where they were sitting. "Listen to this!" God said. He nudged the little bird, and the bird gave him an attempt at a smile, then did the song again. "Hey, that's me! That's a perfect rendition!" said Chicadee. God had her do her own song, and indeed, the little bird's imitation was so perfect that you could not tell them apart. "Try another one." God said. "Who should I do?" said the little bird, warming to the game. "You decide." So the little bird did a mockery of Bluejays hideous screach. God laughed and slapped the little bird on the back. "That's great. You're a Mocking bird! I bet you can imitate almost everyone here!". For probably the first time, God was wrong. Mockingbird could sing more than "almost" everyones song, he could sing EVERYONE'S song, by heart, as perfectly as they did. Since God was smiling and laughing now, Mockingbird felt much better, and so he did a quick medly of about twenty different birds songs, one right after the other, and to cap it off, he made little knocking sounds exactly like Woodpecker makes when he's knocking on trees. Everyone laughed and cheered when he was done, and finally little Mockingbird had a smile on his face, for he, too, had found a way to please God (well, actually, God had found for him a way to please himself, which is the same thing, really, for when any creature is pleased with himself for doing something good, God is also pleased, and when any creature feels inadequate, God, in his compassion, finds a way to help.) All the birds then joined in singing, for the last time, the beautiful song that the angels had taught them at the dawning of the seventh day, as a tribute to them and to God. From that day forward, every bird sang only the song that he himself had composed for God at the beginning of time (except Mockingbird, of course, who sings to the glory of all the birds kinds, and even does a squeaky gate or a creaking pine every now and then, just for variety.) It is said that on the last day, the birds will once again all sing in unison that which the angels taught them.