A young blackbird was keen to venture into the world beyond the nest. “I’m ready to fly,” she announced, pushing her way to the edge. “Wait, little one, your wings aren’t strong enough yet,” her mother warned.

But the youngster couldn’t wait. She turned and launched herself from the nest. And immediately plummeted to the ground with a resolute bump.

With head spinning, the young blackbird picked herself up and started to run. As she ran, she beat her wings, hoping the effort would lift her up, but it didn’t work. She simply could not get off the ground. Her wings weren’t strong enough; her mother was right.

But the young blackbird was not going to give up so easily. If her own wings were not enough, she would build herself another pair and with those she would be able to fly. She would prove she could survive in the world beyond the nest.

She gathered blades of grass, the stems of wild flowers, and the narrowest, most supple twigs. And she began to weave them together until, between beak and claw, she had fashioned a small and sturdy pair of artificial wings.

She slipped the wings over her head, making sure to fix them tight, and once more she started to run. She ran as hard as she could, flapping the new wings up and down, desperate to get off the ground.

It might have been a sudden breeze, a providential gust of wind, or a simple stroke of luck, but the young blackbird felt herself rise into the air. “Am I flying?” she gasped with breathless disbelief.

Feeling lighter, less burdened, the young blackbird soared upwards, banking, swooping, circling around, and it was only then she noticed her artificial wings had fallen away. “See,” she cried. “I can do it. I am strong enough.”

She wanted to tell her mother the good news, but her mother was elsewhere, busy looking after the rest of the brood, and the young blackbird realised she was on her own now, in the world beyond the nest.

And she could do anything.

© Richard Parkin, 2022

Further details: Misadventures in the Land of Fable #21