THE BLUE BIRD’S TRAIL
In an instant there appeared to David, as if in a vision, the
moss-covered seat and the beautiful little old woman of so many months
ago. Again he seemed to hear the words, “When you see the Bird, little
boy, follow it.”
Quick as thought David said to himself, “That is the Blue Bird--I _will_
follow it!”
He stooped, picked up his woodsman’s axe and the sharp hunting knife in
its leathern case, strapped the belt around his waist, swung the axe
over his shoulder, and started off in the direction in which the bird
had flown. He ran to the dark cedar grove toward which the Blue Bird had
disappeared. There he hurried from tree to tree, seeking, in the thick
foliage, the brightly iridescent gleam of the beautiful little
creature’s feathers. But no sign of it could David find. After searching
and searching, he sat down quite discouraged.
Suddenly he heard again the clear liquid notes of the song. Springing to
his feet, he looked in the direction of the bird’s music. And, sure
enough, there was the exquisite creature, resting on a twig just above
his head.
This time he had a fine chance to study it carefully, to note the
markings on its wings, head, and breast; and after this he never forgot
how the Blue Bird looked--no, he remembered every detail through all the
long years to come.
Its back and wings were of the colour that we sometimes see reflected in
the surface of the ocean or of a lake or river--the wonderful deep blue
of a serene sky. Its breast was like the shade of the sky on a soft
summer day when great white clouds are floating about and a faint haze
rests over all the earth. Its head was of the same rich, deep tone as
the wings and back, and its throat was of that softer blue of the
breast. When the Bird flew, it seemed as if a line of gold encircled it,
for the wings and tail were tipped and outlined with a golden yellow
band. When one saw it darting through the sunlight, one could not but
think of a bit of the sky itself, outlined by a golden sunbeam. Its song
was like the music of a rushing mountain brook in early springtime.
Having once seen and heard this little songster, David had no other
desire than to follow it wherever its flight might lead.
The Bird flew and David followed. It took no long flights, but went
from tree to tree. It was as if it understood that David wished to
follow, for always, before flying further, it waited till the boy had
come to the foot of the tree on which it rested. Such a journey as he
made! for in a short time the Bird had left the woodland trail and was
flying cross-country, where there was no path to make David’s progress
less difficult. Soon he was climbing a steep mountainside; then he
descended a deep valley over steep and slippery cliffs; once he became
so entangled in briers that he was almost on the point of crying. But he
pushed bravely on; and in a little while he stood free from the vexing
briers, in an open meadow by the edge of a sparkling lake upon the
surface of which bloomed white water lilies. Behind him rose the
mountain over which he had journeyed and the steep, high ridges down
which he had slipped and fallen; their sheer damp walls shone now, as
the sunlight played upon them. It was no easy path that he had walked,
and as he looked back upon it he half wondered how he had been able to
accomplish it all in safety.
Now his way was very different. He found himself on a well-marked trail,
following the edge of the lake through a beautiful pine forest. The
trees had scattered their brown leaves upon the ground, and it was very
soft under his sore and tired feet. The Bird flew before him, leading
him on step by step till at last he came out of the pine forest at the
head of the lake. He paused for a moment to look across the smooth
surface of the water that stretched away before him. There, beyond its
furthest boundary, rose the mountain; and beyond that, he knew, lay his
home.
Suddenly the Bird sang. David listened. Again there filled his heart
that same mysterious desire to follow wherever the Bird might lead him.
Nothing else in the world seemed to him to matter half so much. The Bird
flew on. Now they were in a region of white birch trees and low-growing
bushes, and the ground all about was covered with a carpet of tiny
purple flowers with bright yellow centres.
In the distance David saw a large tree. It was greater than any other
tree which grew thereabout, and its broad-spreading branches cast a cool
shade. Its huge trunk, roughened and scarred by time, looked as old as
the mountain itself. The Bird flew toward it, David still following; and
all at once it darted into a hole in the tree-trunk, more than a tall
man’s height from the ground, and disappeared from sight. David ran to
the
[Illustration:
DAVID RAN TO THE FOOT OF THE
TREE, FASTENED THE HEAD OF HIS
AX IN THE HOLE]
foot of the tree and fastened the head of his axe in the hole, which he
could just reach by standing on tiptoe. Then, using the handle of his
axe to help him, he pulled himself up till he was able to look in.
Such a sight as met his eyes! Instead of being dark and black, as were
most holes of its kind into which David had ever looked, this opening
seemed filled with light. It gave him the same feeling of wonder that
comes over one when first one looks at the moon through a telescope. He
saw a blaze of golden light; and within the light lay a world that
seemed to him like Fairyland itself. He gazed and gazed, clinging to the
axe handle, digging his toes into the rough bark, lest he fall to the
ground and so see no more.
At last, unable to hold on any longer, he was obliged to let go and drop
to the ground. Somehow his axe became dislodged from the hole, and try
as he might, he could not fasten it in again. He sat down at the foot of
the tree, for he was very tired; and in a few moments he had fallen fast
asleep.