Join us at the campfire for tales from around the world, told by storytellers of all backgrounds and creeds. From the heros and heroines of old, let us relearn and rediscover the wisdom of our ancestors. Shhh..the story begins..
There was once a particular peaceful tribe that was so bullied and persecuted by its stronger and more warlike neighbors that it finally sought refuge in a change of shape. Tired of life as put-upon humans, the tribespeople turned themselves into a flock of herons and encamped in a swamp.
Despite being remote from the attentions of their old oppressors, they still continued to feel anxious and exposed. Their former lifestyle had left them jittery and nervous, and the swamp afforded little in the way of real cover. In those days, reeds were not much more than straggly stalks of glorified grass and nowhere near high enough to conceal a tall heron. So, huddling each night behind the stunted clumps, the swamp-dwellers pulled at the tops of the reeds, trying to stretch them higher in the hope of finding some true defense against their imagined enemies.
Over time, the reeds were extended to their present length...tall enough to hide a heron...but nothing seemed to allay the swamp- dwellers' now habitual fears. Even today, despite the impenetrability of the reeds, herons continued to shun the daylight hours, emerging to hunt only during the dark blanket of night. If the stem of a reed is examined carefully, the raised bump where those first herons once grasped them, stretching with all their strength that they might grow taller, can still be seen.
The crow, always known to be an old trickster, once entered into an unlikely alliance with two elegant swans, which had fallen afoul of the crow's traditional enemy, the eaglehawk. Two white swans (long ago, all of Australia's swans were white) enraged the eaglehawk when they unwittingly landed upon a lagoon which just happened to be eaglehawk territory.
The eaglehawk forces swooped down and ruthlessly attacked the swans, tearing at them with their sharp talons and hooked beaks, pulling out great tufts of down and feathers as they bore the unfortunate swans southward along the coast. The dazzling white plumes floated gently to earth, where they turned into beautiful flowers...the flannel flowers which adorn the East Australian coastal cliff tops every spring. Finally, the eaglehawks dropped the bodies of the swans, practically plucked bare, in a desert area. Then, leaving their defeated enemies for dead, headed home. A flight of crows happened by and, upon seeing the swans laying chilled and broken of spirit, felt sympathy with a fellow victim of the cruel eaglehawk. Since the swans had no feathers left, the crows plucked out their own plumage for the pitiful birds to wear...and Australian swans have been black as crows from that day forward.
There once was a time when food was short and competition for what provisions were accessible was very fierce indeed. Two birds...then sisters...became locked in a silly sibling rivalry, in which Kalaia the Emu envied Kipara the Turkey because of the privileges Kipara appeared to enjoy as the elder.
The slow-witted Kalaia managed to conjure up what was actually quite a cunning ruse, hiding all but two of her chicks in the long grass well away from her nest. When her sister, Kipara, asked where the others were, the Emu replied, with the utmost aplomb, that she had killed all but two of her brood in order to stretch out the available food. Loving mother that she was, Kipara the Turkey was shocked by such a harsh scheme but was forced to admit that she could find no flaw in its logic. So, taking her chicks off into the Outback, the Turkey likewise did all but two of them to death, only to find, upon returning home, that Kalaia's family was intact and that she had been deceived.
Dull as she was, however, Kipara was not without wiles of her own, and she vowed revenge upon her spiteful sister. Folding her wings back upon themselves, the Turkey told her sister, the Emu, that she had cut then off halfway. Kipara declared that she felt like a new bird and began leaping and dancing, proclaiming that she was now so light and so physically free that she could not imagine why she had not done such a thing years before.
Not to be outdone, Kalaia seized a stone knife and started hacking at her own wings. Soon, only short, useless stumps remained. At that, Kipara spread her own pinions wide and cried aloud in triumph. Never again would Kalaia the Emu be able to fly and she might now be hunted down with ease by dogs and men. At least she would have her chicks, Kalaia retorted, seeing how she had been tricked, whereas Kipara had lost all but two of hers.
And so it would turn out to be. From that time forward, the emu would forever be flightless, while the turkey would never again hatch more than two chicks at any one time.