THE LONELY BIRD

Out in the great African lake there was once a little bird that found itself all alone among all the other birds of the great wild waters. It seemed to have been orphaned and left to fend for itself all alone and lonely still. It used to love to sit and watch all the other birds flying and diving about the surface of the water in search of small fish and food for a lovely meal. The ducks went ‘Quack, quack quack’ and frollicked all about the shallows of the great lake. ‘Can I join you and be a charming little duck too?’ he asked the flock of ducks, but they just shrugged and said ‘No. You are not one of us. You are just a silly little fellow lost without a mother and a home.’ and they would carry on swimming with joy and pride paying a little bird like him no mind. At other times he would watch the wild geese hunting for fish deep out in the waters of the lake and he would ask them, ‘Can’t I become a goose like you, and hunt my fish too out in the great wild waters?’ But the flock of geese would just hiss back at him the way did to everyone else, and that meant ‘No. You can’t. Get lost, little bird of pink with fluffy feathers and scrawny legs too.’ Then he would watch the water fowl out among the reeds diving for and swallowing the minnows of the lake with glee filling their little tummies to the brim as they ate their fill. Maybe I can join them, thought the little bird, but no they just ignored him as well and it seemed that he would be an outcast forever, lost in the great expanse of water with no family and kind of his own after all. And so winter followed summer but it was always warm and pleasant out on the African waters and he learned to get by on his own somehow nonetheless. ‘What will ever become of a lonely little chap like you, all alone and lonely out in the wild?’ echoed all the other birds in union as the sun set in the west pink and red and blue in the true beauty of the great wilderness each day. ‘Whatever will become of you little fellow. Whatever will become of you?’ But then the great miracle dawned with the next spring passing, as lo and behold, the little pink bird had all of sudden changed into the most graceful flamingo of all, with long stately legs prancing about with grace. Its splendid pink wings carried it with ease all across the wide open waters and all the other bird flocks were struck with awe at its royalty and grace. It flew out across the great African lake and joined the great flocks of flamingo out in the great open expanse of water wild and free. A miracle was born once more out in the wild and the little bird's one and only dream had come true. He had found a kin and home of his own after all, and he would skim gracefully with the rest of the flock over the gliding water of the open vastness forever. Beautiful flamingo, up in flight they go, pink as snow. Flying high, skimming low, the one and only beautiful Flamingo.