Japie, a story about a strong-willed little bird with a surprising end
In memory of Jaap
Whenever you feel crapped upon, by someone specific or life in general, take solace in this story.1
Japie loved to have fun and he was game for play with anyone. His fellow “leavers” as well as “stayer” kids his age. They’d race through the branches, twisting and turning, swinging up and down, left and right like little tornados. Often missing their parents and other birds by a whisker.
When the first autumn storms hit, the leavers began gathering in trees and on roofs and powerlines.
“Should we go already?” “No, there’s still time.” “We need to stock up more.”
Their twittering was deafening.
Japie’s voice wasn’t among them. He was still horsing around, though his playmates were now mostly stayers.
The leavers called to him as their preparations for the long journey south gathered steam. Japie refused to heed them. He’d flown south last year. Like a good boy. Only to fly all the way back in spring.
He didn’t see the point.
The other leavers waited as long as they felt comfortable, trying to convince Japie he was making an error. “You’ll freeze.” “You won’t have anything to eat.” “You’ll have nobody to play with but stayers.”
Japie shrugged.
It couldn’t be that bad. He liked the stayers and figured that if they could hang around, not freeze, and have enough to eat, so could he.
When autumn had taken hold firmly and winter announced its coming, the temperature dropped suddenly and severely. Gales blew in from the west laden with hale, snow, and sleet.
Japie shivered. Puffing up his feathers to stay warm like the stayers told him to do, didn’t help much. Moving did. A bit. Not enough.
The others had been right, after all.
Japie, being strong willed but not stubborn, changed his mind and took to the skies. Cold and hungry he headed south. The exercise warmed him at first. But it was no match for the weather. Soon icicles formed on his wings that became more stiff from the cold by the minute.
Not soon after, he fell to the ground right behind a cow.
The cow hadn’t noticed him as she was to busy getting ready to unload a big pile of dung. It landed right on top of the little bird, covering him from head to toe, making it hard to breathe at all.
“That’s it, I’m done for,” Japie thought.
But soon the pile of dung defrosted him. Japie basked in the warmth. Unable to contain his mirth at still being alive he began to sing. A happy song that drew smiles from all the cows around him.
One of the farm’s cats heard the noise and sauntered over to investigate who or what was making such a racket.
He soon spotted Japie’s beak just sticking out over the top of the dung pile.
The cat knew what to do, it was his job and he loved doing it. So he quickly pawed away the dung, uncovering Japie, and promptly ate him.
The lessons to take away from this
Not everyone who shits on you, is your enemy.
Not everyone who gets you out of shit, is your friend.
When you’re warm and happy in a pile of shit, keep your mouth shut.
I first heard this story way back in the 1990s. In the early 2000s there was only one version online. Since 2010 it has proliferated like a rabbit. Some are very close to the original, some are complete adaptations. This version is mine, as I told it to an audience during a storytelling course at the “Vertel academie” (story telling academy).
Poor little Jaap.