Jackdaw was fed up with the blackbird’s singing. The bird warbled from branch to branch, dawn to dusk, as if it owned the place. “You’re not the only one who can sing, you know?” he said, and he hurried off to find someone to prove his point. He returned soon after with the song thrush.

“Go on, show his how it’s done,” Jackdaw urged, but instead of going up against the blackbird’s lyrical trills and whistles, the thrush complemented them, slipping crotchets and quavers into the gaps between the phrases. This was not what Jackdaw had in mind and he tore off in search of the nightingale, who he knew to be far superior performer to both blackbird and thrush.

“Go on, show them how it’s done,” Jackdaw demanded, but the nightingale could sense there was no space for another lead voice and instead, being a skillful virtuoso, pitched its voice both high and low to add an almost abstract embellishment to the melodies. This was definitely not what Jackdaw had in mind. But then, before he could think of another rival, a collared-dove joined the ensemble, completing the sound with its soft rhythmic baritone.

“Stop stop stop!” Jackdaw cried. “Enough of this racket! All we need are greetings, and warnings, and simple messages. Just stop this useless noise! Please.”

But now they had been brought together, the songbirds didn’t feel the slightest need to stop. On they sang, through the dusk, long into the night.

© Richard Parkin, 2025

Further reading: Misadventures in the Land of Fables #58