A Tale as Told by Mouseface to Charles the Five and a Half Foot Tall Robin about Carl the Chipping Sparrow and Glenda the Goldfinch

It was a day like any other. Perfectly lovely siesta weather. The sun was bright and yellow as the sun, the sky big and blue as the sky, and white puffs of puffy clouds drifted mildly overhead in a breeze so mild it felt like a gentle kiss on my cheek. Most everyone was off doing whatever they did, all but André, Charles, and I. It is best to do something when one had something to do. We were enjoying conversation about any number of things: plum trees, trusty meerschaum pipes, green Adirondack chairs, and of course, friendship.

In the course of our conversation, Charles related an interesting tale. It was a tale about Mouseface. It wasn’t a tale about Mouseface’s little tail, the way it sticks straight up as he skitters about. It was a tale told to Charles by Mouseface about Mouseface’s conversation with Carl the Chipping Sparrow.

Charles said Mouseface said, “One afternoon, I was dining beneath the bird feeders stuffing my little cheeks with millet and seeds as we chipmunks are known to do. A cardinal and a bluejay were dining above. As you know Charles, cardinals and bluejays are quite particular about what they eat. Quite particular indeed. They winnow out their favorites, peanuts and sunflower seeds, and happen to send the other seeds to the ground. What a happy coincidence, for they provided food for us ground feeders: the doves, the juncos, the sparrows, and even me! I stuffed my cheeks, and stuffed my cheeks, until not even the teensiest tiniest grain of millet would fit. My cheeks looked all puffed up, jam-packed as a Christmas stocking bulging with gifts waiting to be claimed.

On this particular day, Carl the Chipping Sparrow was eating next to me. Chipping sparrows do a little dance when they dine. They hop forward, then back, forward, then back, to dislodge seeds to eat. I thought Carl looked sad. It is hardly unusual for friends to sense whether a friend may be happy, or may be sad.

I said, “Carl, you do not look your usual cheerful self. Even your eating dance seems a bit subdued when it usually appears quite high spirited. Are you quite alright?”

It was quite true. Carl the Chipping Sparrow did feel disheartened, and said so. ‘Mouseface, it is an old problem among we sparrows. We appear so dull compared to the cardinals, the bluejays, and the goldfinches, who are of a yellow so bright and astonishing, they appear to be gold.’

“You do have your little red cap, Carl”, I said.

“It is true. My cap is a lovely shade of red. But look at the rest of me. I am a plain brown bird. Just a plain brown bird. My fellow sparrows are no better off.”

I said, “Carl, it is true you sparrows are not brightly colored, but I never thought you plain. Your feathers are white and black, and many shades of brown, all in a rich and complex pattern. Brown is a color too, you know.”

Carl was not convinced. He said, “I appreciate your trying to make me feel better, Mouseface. I wish I were brightly colored is all.”

Just then, a goldfinch flew down to join us.

She said, “Hello all! I am Glenda the Goldfinch. I could not help but hear your conversation. I assure you, I was not eavesdropping. It is rude to eavesdrop, but you were so close to my perch, I could not help but hear what you were saying.”

I was relieved to hear it and said so. I am glad you explained you were not eavesdropping. Friends do not secretly listen to friends. Then I made the introductions. I am Mouseface the Chipmunk, and my friend here is Carl the Chipping Sparrow.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Glenda.

“Pleased to meet you also,” said Carl.

“Carl,” said Glenda the Goldfinch, “May I make a personal observation?” It is only polite for a friend to ask permission of a friend when it comes to personal observations.

“I suppose so,” said Carl. By the tone of his voice, I could tell Carl was still feeling a bit discouraged. What Glenda said next came as a great surprise, a great surprise indeed. I believe Carl was no less surprised than me.

Glenda said, “I have long thought you sparrows possessed a marvelously complex a pattern of feathers. You have so many subtle shades of brown with white and black mixed in. The pattern of my feathers is so simple. Just blocks of color. I wish we goldfinches could look a bit more like you.”

I said, “It is interesting you should say that, Glenda. Carl was just saying how sad he felt having dull colors compared to you goldfinches.”

I was right. Carl was taken by surprise at what Glenda said, and said so. “I confess, I am awfully surprised you should feel that way, Glenda, being as beautiful as you are.”

To that, I said, “Me too.”

Carl and Glenda looked at each other, each wishing they looked more like the other. Then I got up on my hind legs, and you know what that meant. It meant I had something important to say.! Why compare yourselves to each other? Neither of you are better or worse for your colors and patterns.

“What on earth can you mean by that?” said Carl.

“Simple,” said I. “Carl, you look exactly as any chipping sparrow ought to look. Glenda, you look just like what any goldfinch ought to look like. You are each just right.”

“It is true we goldfinches have strikingly beautiful colors, but they are only blocks of color.{

“It is true we chipping sparrows have complex patterns of color, but they are so dull.”

This is what I told them. I said, “Beautiful blocks of gold and black? Complex patterns of black, white, and many shades of brown? Why compare yourselves? Should I be sad I am not as big as Charles, and able to stride about as he does? Should I be happy I skitter about when Harry doesn’t skitter about at all? What does it matter? I am exactly what a chipmunk is, and should be.”

Carl said, “I think I understand, Mouseface. I may admire Glenda’s beautiful golden feathers, but I am what a chipping sparrow is and should be, and that is a good thing.”

And Glenda said, “It’s the same for me I suppose. I can admire Carl’s complex pattern of colors, but I am what a goldfinch is and should be, and that is a good thing.”

Carl agreed. “Neither of us are better than the other. We are simply who we are.”

Glenda said, “We are simply different. And Carl…”

“Yes, Glenda?” said Carl.

“Your little red cap is a lovely shade of red.”

I said, “Indeed.” I was so jubilant I broke into my happy dance, and wouldn’t you know it, Carl and Glenda joined in. It is a beautiful thing when friends know who they are, and don’t compare their worth to others.”

“That was quite a story, Charles,” I said.

“That Mouseface certainly is a wise and caring friend,” said Charles.

“And, as fine story teller as a fine story teller can be,” said André.

“Siesta, my friends?” I said.

“Capital,” said André.