THE egg had just hatched, producing the little featherless bird (inakay). The nest was nice and cozy. However, a sudden gust of wind dislodged the nest from the tree branch and down fell the poor little bird on the open ground below.
Without feathers for protection, the bird began to turn bluish as it shivered in the cold morning air. In a few hours, the little bird would perish from the harsh elements.
By a stroke of good luck, a young boy on his way to school saw the shivering bird and took pity on it. He picked it up, cradled it in his cupped hand, and gently blew warm air on it. The boy would have loved to keep the bird for a pet but he knew the poor featherless thing was too weak to survive.
He looked around for a suitable warm nesting place but couldn’t find any. All he saw was a fresh mound of carabao dung on the ground. The boy tenderly placed the bird in the middle of the mound and buried the whole body, with only the head and part of the neck protruding.
The mound was still warm so the bird felt good. Its blood began to circulate. In half an hour the bird felt so comfortable that it began to sing.
A farmer on his way to his ricefield heard the singing and saw the tiny bird buried in the mound of dung. He thought the poor thing was in distress so he bent down and pulled it out. The farmer even wiped away the adhering excrement and then carefully placed the bird on the grassy part of the roadside.
Soon the sun began to warm the bird. At first, the heat was tolerable. But as the sun rose directly overhead, the heat began to burn the little bird. By the time the sun had set, the bird was dead.
* * *
There are three moral lessons to the story:
First, the one who puts you in the carabao dung
need not be an enemy;
Second, the one who gets you out of the carabao dung
need not be your friend; and
Third, when you are in it up to your neck,
for heaven’s sake, don’t sing!
The Parable of the Singing Bird