Once the snakes decided that they would give a costume ball; and to make
the affair a truly brilliant one they sent invitations to the frogs, the
toads, the alligators and the fish.
The fish replied that since they had no legs they would not be able to
do much dancing; whereupon, as a special courtesy to them, the ball was
held on the shore of the Parana. The fish swam up to the very beach and
sat looking on with their heads out of water. When anything pleased them
they splashed with their tails.
To make as good an appearance as possible, the alligators put necklaces
of bananas around their throats; and they came to the ball smoking big
Paraguay cigars. The toads stuck fish scales all over their bodies; and
when they walked, they moved their forelegs out and in as though they
were swimming. They strutted up and down the beach with very glum,
determined faces; and the fish kept calling to them, making fun of their
scales. The frogs were satisfied to leave their smooth green skins just
as they were; but they bathed themselves in perfume and walked on their
hind legs. Besides, each one carried a lightning bug, which waved to and
fro like a lantern, at the end of a string in the frog's hand.
But the best costumes of all were worn by the snakes. All of them,
without exception, had dancing gowns of the color of their skins. There
were red snakes, and brown snakes, and pink snakes, and yellow
snakes--each with a garment of tulle to match. The _yarara_, who is a
kind of rattler, came in a single-piece robe of gray tulle with
brick-colored stripes--for that is the way the _yarara_ dresses even
when he is not going to a ball. The coral snakes were prettier still.
They draped themselves in a gauze of reds, whites and blacks; and when
they danced, they wound themselves round and round like corkscrews,
rising on the tips of their tails, coiling and uncoiling, balancing this
way and that. They were the most graceful and beautiful of all the
snakes, and the guests applauded them wildly.
The flamingoes were the only ones who seemed not to be having a good
time. Stupid birds that they were, they had not thought of any costumes
at all. They came with the plain white legs they had at that time and
the thick, twisted bills they have even now. Naturally they were envious
of all the gowns they saw, but most of all, of the fancy dress of the
coral snakes. Every time one of these went by them, courtesying,
pirouetting, balancing, the flamingoes writhed with jealousy. For no
one, meanwhile, was asking them to dance.
"I know what we must do," said one of the flamingoes at last. "We must
go and get some stockings for our legs--pink, black and white like the
coral snakes themselves--then they will all fall in love with us!"
The whole flock of them took wing immediately and flew across the river
to a village nearby. They went to the store and knocked:
"Tan! Tan! Tan!"
"Who is it?" called the storekeeper.
"We're the flamingoes. We have come to get some stockings--pink, black,
and white."
"Are you crazy?" the storekeeper answered. "I keep stockings for people,
not for silly birds. Besides, stockings of such colors! You won't find
any in town, either!"
The flamingoes went on to another store:
"Tan! Tan! Tan! We are looking for stockings--pink, black and white.
Have you any?"
"Pink, black and white stockings! Don't you know decent people don't
wear such things? You must be crazy! Who are you, anyway?"
"We are the flamingoes," the flamingoes replied.
"In that case you are silly flamingoes! Better go somewhere else!"
They went to still a third store:
"Tan! Tan! Pink, black and white stockings! Got any?"
"Pink, black and white nonsense!" called the storekeeper. "Only birds
with big noses like yours could ask for such a thing. Don't make tracks
on my floor!"
And the man swept them into the street with a broom.
So the flamingoes went from store to store, and everywhere people called
them silly, stupid birds.
However, an owl, a mischievous _tatu_, who had just been down to the
river to get some water, and had heard all about the ball and the
flamingoes, met them on his way back and thought he would have some fun
with them.
"Good evening, good evening, flamingoes," he said, making a deep bow,
though, of course, it was just to ridicule the foolish birds. "I know
what you are looking for. I doubt if you can get any such stockings in
town. You might find them in Buenos Aires; but you would have to order
them by mail. My sister-in-law, the barn owl, has stockings like that,
however. Why don't you go around and see her? She can give you her own
and borrow others from her family."
"Thanks! Thanks, ever so much!" said the flamingoes; and they flew off
to the cellar of a barn where the barn owl lived.
"Tan! Tan! Good evening, Mrs. Owl," they said. "A relation of yours, Mr.
Tatu, advised us to call on you. Tonight, as you know, the snakes are
giving a costume ball, and we have no costumes. If you could lend us
your pink, black and white stockings, the coral snakes would be sure to
fall in love with us!"
"Pleased to accommodate you," said the barn owl. "Will you wait just a
moment?"
She flew away and was gone some time. When she came back she had the
stockings with her. But they were not real stockings. They were nothing
but skins from coral snakes which the owl had caught and eaten during
the previous days.
"Perhaps these will do," she remarked. "But if you wear them at the
ball, I advise you to do strictly as I say: dance all night long, and
don't stop a moment. For if you do, you will get into trouble, I assure
you!"
The flamingoes listened to what she said; but, stupidly, did not try to
guess what she could have meant by such counsel. They saw no danger in
the pretty stockings. Delightedly they doubled up their claws like
fists, stuck them through the snakeskins, which were like so many long
rubber tubes, and flew back as quickly as they could to the ball.
When the guests at the dance saw the flamingoes in such handsome
stockings, they were as jealous as could be. You see, the coral snakes
were the lions of the evening, and after the flamingoes came back, they
would dance with no one but the flamingoes. Remembering the instructions
of the barn owl, the flamingoes kept their feet going all the time, and
the snakes could not see very clearly just what those wonderful
stockings were.
After a time, however, they grew suspicious. When a flamingo came
dancing by, the snakes would get down off the ends of their tails to
examine its feet more closely. The coral snakes, more than anybody else,
began to get uneasy. They could not take their eyes off those stockings,
and they got as near as they could, trying to touch the legs of the
flamingoes with the tips of their tongues--for snakes use their tongues
to feel with, much as people use their hands. But the flamingoes kept
dancing and dancing all the while, though by this time they were getting
so tired they were about ready to give up.
The coral snakes understood that sooner or later the flamingoes would
have to stop. So they borrowed the lightning bugs from the frogs, to be
ready when the flamingoes fell from sheer exhaustion.
And in fact, it was not long before one of the birds, all tired out,
tripped over the cigar in an alligator's mouth, and fell down on her
side. The coral snakes all ran toward her with their lanterns, and held
the lightning bugs up so close that they could see the feet of the
flamingo as clearly as could be.
"Aha! Aha! Stockings, eh? Stockings, eh?" The coral snakes began to hiss
so loudly that people could hear them on the other side of the Parana.
The cry was taken up by all the snakes: "They are not wearing stockings!
We know what they have done! The flamingoes have been killing brothers
of ours, and they are wearing their skins as stockings! Those pretty
legs each stand for the murder of a coral snake!"
At this uproar, the flamingoes took fright and tried to fly away. But
they were so tired from all the dancing that not one of them could move
a wing. The coral snakes darted upon them, and began to bite at their
legs, tearing off the false stockings bit by bit, and, in their rage,
sinking their fangs deep into the feet and legs of the flamingoes.
The flamingoes, terrified and mad with pain, hopped this way and that,
trying to shake their enemies off. But the snakes did not let go till
every last shred of stocking had been torn away. Then they crawled off,
to rearrange their gauze costumes that had been much rumpled in the
fray. They did not try to kill the flamingoes then and there; for most
coral snakes are poisonous; and they were sure the birds they had bitten
would die sooner or later anyway.
But the flamingoes did not die. They hopped down to the river and waded
out into the water to relieve their pain. Their feet and legs, which had
been white before, had now turned red from the poison in the bites. They
stood there for days and days, trying to cool the burning ache, and
hoping to wash out the red.
[Illustration: "The flamingoes ... hopped down to the river, and waded
out ... to relieve their pain."]
But they did not succeed. And they have not succeeded yet. The
flamingoes still pass most of their time standing on their red legs out
in the water. Occasionally they go ashore and walk up and down for a few
moments to see if they are getting well. But the pain comes again at
once, and they hurry back into the water. Even there they sometimes feel
an ache in one of their feet; and they lift it out to warm it in their
feathers. They stand that way on one leg for hours, I suppose because
the other one is so stiff and lame.
That is why the flamingoes have red legs instead of white. And the
fishes know it too. They keep coming up to the top of the water and
crying "Red legs! Red legs! Red legs!" to make fun of the flamingoes for
having tried to borrow costumes for a ball. On that account, the
flamingoes are always at war with the fishes. As they wade up and down,
and a fish comes up too close in order to shout "Red legs" at them, they
dip their long bills down and catch it if they can.