Long, long ago, at the beginning of things, they say that the Lord made
the world smooth and round like an apple. There were no hills nor
mountains: nor were there any hollows or valleys to hold the seas and
rivers, fountains and pools, which the world of men would need. It must,
indeed, have been a stupid and ugly earth in those days, with no chance
for swimming or sailing, rowing or fishing. But as yet there was no one
to think anything about it, no one who would long to swim, sail, row,
and fish. For this was long before men were created.
The Lord looked about Him at the flocks of newly made birds, who were
preening their wings and wondering at their own bright feathers, and
said to Himself,--
"I will make these pretty creatures useful, from the very beginning, so
that in after time men shall love them dearly. Come, my birds," He
cried, "come hither to me, and with the beaks which I have given you
hollow me out _here_, and _here_, and _here_, basins for the lakes and
pools which I intend to fill with water for men and for you, their
friends. Come, little brothers, busy yourselves as you would wish to be
happy hereafter."
Then there was a twittering and fluttering as the good birds set to work
with a will, singing happily over the work which their dear Lord had
given them to do. They pecked and they pecked with their sharp little
bills; they scratched and they scratched with their sharp little claws,
till in the proper places they had hollowed out great basins and valleys
and long river beds, and little holes in the ground.
Then the Lord sent great rains upon the earth until the hollows which
the birds had made were filled with water, and so became rivers and
lakes, little brooks and fountains, just as we see them to-day. Now it
was a beautiful, beautiful world, and the good birds sang happily and
rejoiced in the work which they had helped, and in the sparkling water
which was sweet to their taste.
All were happy except one. The Woodpecker had taken no part with the
other busy birds. She was a lazy, disobedient creature, and when she
heard the Lord's commands she had only said, "Tut tut!" and sat still on
the branch where she had perched, preening her pretty feathers and
admiring her silver stockings. "You can toil if you want to," she said
to the other birds who wondered at her, "but I shall do no such dirty
work. My clothes are too fine."
Now when the world was quite finished and the beautiful water sparkled
and glinted here and there, cool and refreshing, the Lord called the
birds to Him and thanked them for their help, praising them for their
industry and zeal. But to the Woodpecker He said,--
"As for you, O Woodpecker, I observe that your feathers are unruffled by
work and that there is no spot of soil upon your beak and claws. How did
you manage to keep so neat?"
The Woodpecker looked sulky and stood upon one leg.
"It is a good thing to be neat," said the Lord, "but not if it comes
from shirking a duty. It is good to be dainty, but not from laziness.
Have you not worked with your brothers as I commanded you?"
"It was such very dirty work," piped the Woodpecker crossly; "I was
afraid of spoiling my pretty bright coat and my silver shining hose."
"Oh, vain and lazy bird!" said the Lord sadly. "Have you nothing to do
but show off your fine clothes and give yourself airs? You are no more
beautiful than many of your brothers, yet they all obeyed me willingly.
Look at the snow-white Dove, and the gorgeous Bird of Paradise, and the
pretty Grosbeak. They have worked nobly, yet their plumage is not
injured. I fear that you must be punished for your disobedience, little
Woodpecker. Henceforth you shall wear stockings of sooty black instead
of the shining silver ones of which you are so proud. You who were too
fine to dig in the earth shall ever be pecking at dusty wood. And as you
declined to help in building the water-basins of the world, so you shall
never sip from them when you are thirsty. Never shall you thrust beak
into lake or river, little rippling brook or cool, sweet fountain.
Raindrops falling scantily from the leaves shall be your drink, and your
voice shall be heard only when other creatures are hiding themselves
from the approaching storm."
It was a sad punishment for the Woodpecker, but she certainly deserved
it. Ever since that time, whenever we hear a little tap-tapping in the
tree city, we know that it is the poor Woodpecker digging at the dusty
wood, as the Lord said she should do. And when we spy her, a dusty
little body with black stockings, clinging upright to the tree trunk, we
see that she is creeping, climbing, looking up eagerly toward the sky,
longing for the rain to fall into her thirsty beak. She is always hoping
for the storm to come, and plaintively pipes, "_Plui-plui!_ Rain, O
Rain!" until the drops begin to patter on the leaves.