The Little Vulture and the Blue Jays
kilerkki asked me to tell her a story, because I'd called her Best Beloved, and this is the story I told, all improv like, in chat. And I think I kinda like it. (cross-posted to caer_awen)
The Little Vulture and the Blue Jays
by Nezuko, © 2007
Once upon a time, on the big grassy hills of Northern California, there lived a little vulture. She was a very little vulture, and in fact had only just gotten enough of her wing feathers to be able to fly.
"Now little vulture," her Papa cautioned, "when you soar up into the great blue sky, be sure to find yourself a spot where you can see the whole wide world spread out around you, and ride the thermals high, high, high. But never go near the blue jays."
"Why, Papa?" asked the little vulture. "I want to go up in the great blue sky and soar high, high, high. Why do I have to stay away from the blue jays? The blue jays are little. I could eat them all up."
"No no, little vulture," her Papa said. "The blue jays might be little, but they are many and they are mean. If you go too close they will eat YOU up instead."
So the little vulture went out on a branch of the old live oak tree, and she spread her glossy black wings and looked up at the cloudless sky, and she lept. The wind caught her and she glided until she found a rising thermal, which was a big spiral in the sky that lifted her up high, high, high, right up to where she was almost sure she could touch the sun.
Then she coasted back down on the cool blue sky, til she found another thermal and was lifted high, high, high. She had so much fun that she never noticed the little black and blue birds flying from tree to tree far below.
But the blue jays noticed HER. "Quick, there's a vulture!" the Mama blue jay cried, and faster than you can say San Andreas, all the blue jay daddies and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and other relations came running, while Mama blue jay hid her babies.
And all the blue jay daddies and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and other relations lept up into the air and started chasing that vulture, crying, "We'll eat you UP, little vulture! Don't say we didn't warn you!"
The little vulture looked behind her, and she saw all the blue jay daddies and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and other relations coming at her in an angry mob, and she remembered what her Papa had said, and she was scared. She was so scared she fell right off the thermal she was riding, and went bumpty-bumpty-bumpty tumbling down right towards those screaming jays.
The blue jays all screamed, "Look out!" and scattered this way and that, and the little vulture fell right past them, til she was almost at the tops of the soft golden grass on the dry, dusty hills of Northern California.
Then a cool breeze caught her, and lifted her up, and a little vole who had been sure the very next moment would be his last fainted dead away as the shadow of the little vulture passed up and away.
Well, the little vulture flew as fast as she could, straight back to the old live oak tree, and she landed on the topmost branch huffing and puffing and trembling all over.
"And where have YOU been, little vulture?" her Papa asked, and he looked at her big black wings which weren't so glossy anymore, with the feathers all bedraggled and unkempt and sticking out this way and that.
The little girl vulture just shook her head and said, "I went to ride the thermals, Papa, like a good little girl."
"And did you bother the blue jays, little vulture?" her Papa asked, and there was a twinkle in his eye and a laugh in his voice.
"Oh Papa!," the little vulture said, and she looked up at her Papa with such big, sad eyes that her Papa had to come to her and take her under his wing.
"What did I tell you, little vulture?" her Papa asked, as he smoothed her feathers down.
"Never to bother the blue jays, Papa, because they will eat me right UP," the little vulture answered, and she shook and trembled so hard an acorn fell from the tree and landed with a soft little plop on the dry dusty ground.
And forever after, the little vulture would go out on a hot summer day and leap into the great blue sky, and ride the thermals high, high, high, spiraling up to where she could almost touch the sun. But never without first making sure to stay WELL AWAY from the blue jays.
The End
The Little Vulture and the Blue Jays
by Nezuko, © 2007
Once upon a time, on the big grassy hills of Northern California, there lived a little vulture. She was a very little vulture, and in fact had only just gotten enough of her wing feathers to be able to fly.
"Now little vulture," her Papa cautioned, "when you soar up into the great blue sky, be sure to find yourself a spot where you can see the whole wide world spread out around you, and ride the thermals high, high, high. But never go near the blue jays."
"Why, Papa?" asked the little vulture. "I want to go up in the great blue sky and soar high, high, high. Why do I have to stay away from the blue jays? The blue jays are little. I could eat them all up."
"No no, little vulture," her Papa said. "The blue jays might be little, but they are many and they are mean. If you go too close they will eat YOU up instead."
So the little vulture went out on a branch of the old live oak tree, and she spread her glossy black wings and looked up at the cloudless sky, and she lept. The wind caught her and she glided until she found a rising thermal, which was a big spiral in the sky that lifted her up high, high, high, right up to where she was almost sure she could touch the sun.
Then she coasted back down on the cool blue sky, til she found another thermal and was lifted high, high, high. She had so much fun that she never noticed the little black and blue birds flying from tree to tree far below.
But the blue jays noticed HER. "Quick, there's a vulture!" the Mama blue jay cried, and faster than you can say San Andreas, all the blue jay daddies and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and other relations came running, while Mama blue jay hid her babies.
And all the blue jay daddies and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and other relations lept up into the air and started chasing that vulture, crying, "We'll eat you UP, little vulture! Don't say we didn't warn you!"
The little vulture looked behind her, and she saw all the blue jay daddies and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins and other relations coming at her in an angry mob, and she remembered what her Papa had said, and she was scared. She was so scared she fell right off the thermal she was riding, and went bumpty-bumpty-bumpty tumbling down right towards those screaming jays.
The blue jays all screamed, "Look out!" and scattered this way and that, and the little vulture fell right past them, til she was almost at the tops of the soft golden grass on the dry, dusty hills of Northern California.
Then a cool breeze caught her, and lifted her up, and a little vole who had been sure the very next moment would be his last fainted dead away as the shadow of the little vulture passed up and away.
Well, the little vulture flew as fast as she could, straight back to the old live oak tree, and she landed on the topmost branch huffing and puffing and trembling all over.
"And where have YOU been, little vulture?" her Papa asked, and he looked at her big black wings which weren't so glossy anymore, with the feathers all bedraggled and unkempt and sticking out this way and that.
The little girl vulture just shook her head and said, "I went to ride the thermals, Papa, like a good little girl."
"And did you bother the blue jays, little vulture?" her Papa asked, and there was a twinkle in his eye and a laugh in his voice.
"Oh Papa!," the little vulture said, and she looked up at her Papa with such big, sad eyes that her Papa had to come to her and take her under his wing.
"What did I tell you, little vulture?" her Papa asked, as he smoothed her feathers down.
"Never to bother the blue jays, Papa, because they will eat me right UP," the little vulture answered, and she shook and trembled so hard an acorn fell from the tree and landed with a soft little plop on the dry dusty ground.
And forever after, the little vulture would go out on a hot summer day and leap into the great blue sky, and ride the thermals high, high, high, spiraling up to where she could almost touch the sun. But never without first making sure to stay WELL AWAY from the blue jays.
The End