Week 10 Storytelling: The Color of My Bluebird

I came running in from the bus stop! This morning, before I left for school, my mom whispered in my ear and said I would have a very special present to come home to. I was so excited. I hardly sat still during school today. 

I ran into the house and collapsed straight into my mom. She must have seen me coming. She told me to be quiet and close my eyes. She guided me to what I think was patio. And then, I could hear it, the beautiful chirping of a Bluebird. They have a very distinctive sound. When my father and I go bird watching, he will mimic the sounds of the different birds we see. The call of the Bluebird is my favorite. It has a very smooth and even tone that makes you want to listen to it forever. 

My mother tells me to open my eyes. I've really been peeking the whole time. Then I see it. In an old white cage, stands a Bluebird on the perch. The bird is majestic, tall and proud. I spend the rest of the evening on the patio. I rarely focus on my homework and always focus on my bird. My bird. Who I still haven't named yet. It's just too much of a responsibility. I couldn't just change it after a few days, weeks, months or years. It has to live with the same name forever.

Bluebird

The sun sets below the hills and I begin to yawn more and more. Without realizing, I fall asleep with my math book resting on my stomach. I am lulled into a deeper sleep by the singing of my bird. The soft sounds morph into a song.

There's a blue water.

It lies there

I went in.

I am all blue.

Then in my dreams, my bird appeared singing the song. It smiled at me and began to tell its story.

Once, the Bluebird was an ugly color until one day it dipped its head into the crystal blue river. It continued to bathe in the water four times for four mornings, every time singing the same song.

There's a blue water.

It lies there

I went in.

I am all blue.

On the fourth morning the Bluebird shed all of its feathers and came out of the water in just its skin. The bird waited until morning and woke up, dipped itself in the river one more time and came up covered with blue feathers.

The Bluebird finished its story and continued to sing the song. The beauty of the song lulled me into a greater sleep and, eventually, I woke up with the sun. I knew exactly what I would call my little Bluebird. WATER. Water, like the river the bird bathed in to receive its beautiful color.

Because of the nature of my bird, my mother let Water fly wherever he wanted in the house. We especially loved hanging out on the patio together. He would perch on my shoulder for hours while I did homework or read books. Water was my friend and companion.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I really loved reading this origin story of the how the Bluebird got its color. Instead of a retelling the whole story, I integrated the original story, called How Bluebird and Coyote Got Their Colors, into a dream like sequence. The original story also describes how the coyote got its color, but I thought it would be a little strange for a child to have a coyote as a pet. After copying the bird's ritual the coyote also turned into a beautiful blue color, but because of his vanity he tripped and fell into a the dirt while showing off. 

I intertwined the personality of a young girl to add a little more color and life. I think her personality keeps the story young and innocent, which is kind of how I view birds of all kinds. I think the girl and the Bluebird have almost matching personalities. The whole unit is full or origin and creation stories, which is why I think I liked it so much. I really enjoyed this retelling. To me it was simple and fun to write. I didn’t have any trouble writing this story. My only issue was figuring out whether to use present or past tense. I find it hard to figure out where the memory starts and where the present emotions begin. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Bibliography: Myths and Legends of California and the Old Southwest by Katharine Berry Judson 1912