The Bulbul and the Tortoise

In a garden at the edge of a desert, protected by the shade of tall palm trees, lived three tortoises. A stone wall surrounded the garden, where fruits and fresh water were available all year round.

Life couldn’t be better, until one evening something sparkled in the light of the sunset. It was a bulbul bird, flying and singing, “Cui cui cui cu‑cu‑te!”

Just by listening, the three tortoises were swept away to wide prairies where wild horses roamed freely. They dived deep into the ocean. They flew high above cities made of pure gold. Their heads were spinning and spinning, following the flight of the bird.

Then, just as it came, it was gone. Without uttering a single word, the three tortoises smiled with all their wrinkles, and went back into their shells to sleep.

The next day, the three of them waited, eyes pointed at the sky. The sun set, the stars rose, but the bulbul did not return.

Without a word, without a smile, the three tortoises went back into their shells to sleep.

The next morning, nothing was good in the garden. The water was not clear enough, the shade was not fresh enough, the dates were not sweet enough!

At sunset, only the youngest of the three tortoises stood in the middle of the garden, waiting. The sky turned red, purple, blue. The bulbul didn’t come. Day after day, the youngest of the tortoises waited, until one day… “Cui cui cui cu‑cu‑te!”

“Sisters, sisters, come, the bulbul is back!”

Once more, just by listening, the three tortoises travelled to faraway lands, where the sun never sets and the ice covers everything. They listened to the voice of ancient forests and just when the bulbul began to rise higher and higher, the oldest tortoise shouted, “Ehi, bulbul!”

The bird somersaulted and landed gracefully in front of them, with its head tilted to the left, puzzled.

“Thank you for your wonderful singing, it made our days so much better! Why don’t you stay here with us? There are fruits, water and shade all year round. You could enjoy them and sing for us,” said the oldest tortoise.

The bulbul rattled its beak as if to laugh, and spread its wings. “Don’t you see? Allah gave me wings! I was made to fly and sing all the beauty of the world! I cannot stay in one place.”

The oldest tortoise nodded, something mischievous shone in its eyes. “Don’t you ever wish to rest for a while? Don’t you ever fear the hawk? Don’t you wish to stop facing winds and storms? You would be safe here, the wall protects us. Life is easy in the garden.”

The bulbul pondered its words. “Even if I do, I can’t stop. My wings hear the call of the sky, and I must answer it.”

The oldest tortoise scoffed. “If that’s the problem… listen to me: every time you hear the call of the sky, just pluck one of your feathers. Believe me, after a while you won’t hear it anymore.”

A question for you, readers. What would you do, if you had the bulbul’s wings? Would you stay, would you fly away?

In this tale, the bulbul chose to stay.

The tortoises were right — life was easy in the garden.

The sky was calling the bird, though. Its wings would suddenly shiver when it was enjoying the fresh shade of the palms, eating sweet dates, or when it was drinking from the stream of clear water.

But the bulbul always plucked one of its feathers immediately. It stung for a moment, and in that little pain, the voice of the sky faded away. Day after day, the call became weaker, until one day it finally ceased.

On that day, the youngest tortoise cried hot tears, for the bulbul’s song had never been so empty and meaningless.

But life was easy in the garden.

One day, a cat passed by, looking for a place to rest.

Suddenly, something moved on the ground. The cat took a better look, for it had never seen anything like that — a pink, fat, animal wobbling on two skinny legs. Half hidden by fat cheeks was a beak. The cat licked its whiskers, shook its shoulders and prepared for the jump.

When the bulbul saw the cat, it spread its wings, but they didn’t have any feathers! The bulbul tried to run, but had gotten too fat, and couldn’t run fast enough.

“Help!” the bird shouted. “Please, dear tortoises, make space for me in one of your shells, or I’ll die!”

But the oldest tortoise replied, “Sorry, there’s barely a place for us. We can’t help you, bulbul.”

Right then, the cat jumped. Sharp claws were about to hit the bird, when something grabbed it from behind and pulled.

Suddenly, everything became warm and dark.

The cat banged its nose on the shell of the youngest tortoise, and meowing in pain it ran away.

Bulbul felt a gentle nudge, the leathery skin of its friend was touching its side. In the darkness of the shell, the bird cried all its tears.

“What have I done? I’ve given up the greatest gift Allah has given me, I’ve given up myself! I’m lost and I cannot go back! What have I done, what have I done!”

Eventually, when the tears dried on the bulbul’s cheek, the youngest tortoise pushed its friend outside.

“Follow me, I have to show you something,” it said, slowly making its way towards the tallest palm tree in the garden.

In its shade lay a pumpkin. When the tortoise opened it in two, all the bulbul’s discarded feathers shivered in the breath of the wind, and shimmered in the sunlight.

One by one, they returned to their rightful place on the bulbul’s wings.

From then on, the bulbul trained to get back in shape! With each day, it flew a tiny bit higher, faster, longer, until one day — it spread its wings, finally answering the call of the sky.

There is a garden at the edge of the desert. Three tortoises live there, protected by the shade of palm trees. Every once in a while, a bulbul bird flies over the garden, singing of all the beauty of the world. “Cui cui cui cu‑cu‑te!”

Three tortoises listen to its song, but only one of them knows how far the bulbul travelled to sing those words.

— END —

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