bee and bird

Once there was a little bee, rather bookish, and only dimly aware of the ways of the world.  The bee was content to buzz around and think of nectar and stamen and all the supple petals in a variegated field of tulips.  He often went to and fro among meadows and fields, partaking of the pollen in myriad blooms.  Each new flower seemed a new oasis to drink and taste and ponder.

One day, perusing a lilac blossom, the bee noticed perched nearby a feathered, curious creature.  A bird.  It was rather unlike the bee, though both made their way though the air with ease.  Our little bee was unsure of what the nearby avian wanted with the lilacs.  It had no way of collecting the delicious pollen, and seemed to be different from the bee in almost every way.  The bee tried to greet the bird by shaking his tail and buzzing a bit, but the bird didn't appear to notice and flew away.

Out in the world of flower, nectar, tree and brush the bee began to notice birds as they flitted from tree to tree and made loud squawks and cheerful chirrups.  They were hard to understand.  Birds didn't wiggle and buzz to one another.  They were beautiful, imposing and scary, baleful.  The bee liked them.  He began to pick up on some of their sounds, noticed the differences in tone and frequency.  Though the bee could not make those sounds, he still tried to greet nearby bees when they lit upon nearby branches.  They did not seem to care.

It was many a day before the bee succeeded in his efforts.  One day he was buzzing with some other bees, doing his little butt wiggle, when a small, songbird perched nearby and took interest.  Her head was black, wings brown, with dull copper breast feathers.  The bird made some of the same wiggles and chirruped.  The bee looked up at the creature that had been an object of fear and worry and mystery.  He waved his butt back at her and made a little warble, like the bird had.  Cocking her head, the robin ruffled her feathers a bit and flew away.

The bird often returned to perch near the bee.  They would trade buzzes, chirps and warbles.  Over time, the two developed a kind of understanding, common movement and sound.  Bee would tell bird of hive life, of dances and work and nectar.  Bird would describe nests and soaring and heights and worms.  Bird did not seem as scary as other birds.  Maybe birds were more like bee than he knew.  They were pulchritudinous and deft and fell and enigmatic.  Sometimes he liked to wiggle in a circle to the birds.
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I was inspired to write this after reading "Davita's Harp" by Chaim Potok, from the stories of the character Jakob Daw.  My little sister gives good gifts.