Houck Hollow

Keep a green tree in your heart

And perhaps the singing bird will come.

Lois Lowry

Dedication

For my canaries

Your songs bring me joy

Every day

Picture the most glorious sunset with all its fiery reds, lemon-baked yellows, and marigold oranges and you might come close to envisioning the beautiful array of feathers on George, the canary.

Despite little George’s gorgeous appearance, which should be more than ample reason for any canary bird to puff up his feathers and whistle his best tune, George just couldn’t bring himself to sing.

You see…George…

Just wasn’t happy.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sing. He did.

But George kept finding reasons why he shouldn’t sing.

And the more he thought about it.

The more unhappy he became.

First, George’s parents didn’t feed him as often as they did his siblings.

He was ignored and stepped on far too often for his tastes.

Because of his parents’…he didn’t like to say the word neglect, but he couldn’t think of a nicer word for it, as much as he tried, he didn’t grow as fast as he wished. His body was weak, and he felt clumsy and awkward in comparison to the other hatchlings.

It made him feel…

sad.

George thought, “If only I could get someone to notice me, maybe then I would sing.”

Then, one day, George was noticed.

Shortly after he left the nest, a man came to look at all the birds, and George and all his siblings were sold to new families.

George, the little canary, found to his surprise that he missed his warm nest and, even more shocking, the absence of his siblings left him feeling lonely. Sometimes he spent days without seeing anyone at all, not even a human.

As he sat in the corner of his cage with his head down, he remembered the chatter of his busy family. Being stepped on and ignored didn’t seem like such a bad thing to George now. At least at his old home he was never bored.

The loss of his family made him feel…

sad.

George thought, “If only I could not feel so lonesome every day, maybe then I would sing.”

After a while, George wasn’t so lonesome anymore.

A pretty little yellow canary was put into the cage with him.

George tried his best to become friends with the new bird, but she was withdrawn and mean.

Each time George hopped over in her direction, she chased him away with her beak wide open. She hissed and squawked and flapped her wings wildly.

One time she even nipped his wing hard enough to make it bleed and plucked out one of his feathers.

Poor George kept tucked in his corner and thought he was probably better off being alone. At least then, his new home was peaceful and his wing wasn’t sore.

Watching the pretty new canary preen her feathers on her side of the cage made George, the orange canary, feel…

sad.

George thought, “If only I could find a friend, maybe then I would sing.”

Then one day, it happened.

The pretty little yellow canary began building a nest.

George was more than a little curious to inspect her work, but he knew better than to bother his new companion.

When the yellow canary was finally finished and seemed pleased, she hopped over to George’s corner and tweeted.

It took some time for George to trust her, but soon the two little birds worked together in harmony.

George wasn’t exactly happy, the yellow canary was still very bossy, ordering him to bring her food constantly, and to tuck in bits of string and fluff as she sat on the little blue eggs she’d laid, but at least they weren’t fighting, and he looked forward to seeing what his offspring would look like.

Perhaps they’d have orange feathers with bits of yellow or maybe they’d have fiery red tailfeathers. Sometimes he’d fall asleep dreaming of what each baby bird would look like.

But then…

One day, he woke to find all the eggs were missing and the yellow canary was screeching and flinging herself against the cage so hard that she…

Broke her neck.

George stared down at the pretty little yellow canary. He danced on his perch, sharpened his beak, then lowered his head.

The orange canary thought he’d felt sad before, but now he knew it was possible to feel worse. This kind of sadness made him feel hollow.

Losing his mate and their brood made George feel so…

Sad.

For a long time he wondered if he could even think of a reason to sing, but after many weeks passed, George thought, “If only I could get out of this awful place, maybe then I would sing.”

Time passed…and passed…and passed.

Then…finally…

George’s wish was granted.

The man who brought him food and water disappeared one day…

…and George began to despair.

His feathers started to droop…

…and then they fell out.

The lights in the house shut off and George sensed, as many pets do, that he’d been abandoned.

More days passed and George gleaned all he could from the bits of seed left on the bottom of the cage.

He’d also long since drunk all the water from the dish as well as all the water left out for bathing.

He wondered if he was dying.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Maybe he’d see the little yellow canary again, he considered.

Then again, if he was going to heaven, he thought he might prefer a kinder mate.

Just as the little orange canary made peace with death, a flashlight shone on him, and a pair of hands jostled the cage.

He was rescued from the home where he’d been abandoned and found himself in a large, quite noisy bird sanctuary.

He was given plenty of fresh food, water, and medicine, and was nursed back to health by a large staff of caring humans and he could see many bright singing canaries in a large cage on the other side of the room.

George could also see dozens of much larger birds in a variety of shapes and sizes, each one unique and brilliantly colored in its own way.

Some looked down on him with expressions of pity while others completely disregarded him.

He’d never imagined there were so many different types of birds in the world.

As the little orange canary slowly regained his health, he watched as one bird after another was selected to go home with a new family.

George knew he was dull and common by comparison.

Each time his cage was passed by made him feel unwanted and…

sad.

Nibbling despondently on his seeds, George thought, “If only I could get someone to adopt me, maybe then I would sing.”

Then, one day, a kind-hearted woman and her mother came into the bird sanctuary and stopped at George’s cage.

“He’s just what we’re looking for,” they said.

The bright orange canary got his wish.

He was adopted.

When the women bustled George into his new home, he spent many weeks alone in a cage and though his two new caretakers seemed to adore their new bird, he wondered why they’d been looking for him.

As far as he could tell, he didn’t serve any particular purpose that he could see.

Then, one bright morning, his cage was wheeled into a room containing a very large aviary.

George was startled to hear the songs of many happy canaries and see many nesting mothers.

His eyes darted back and forth watching birds of all ages eating and flying up and down to the perches to feed young ones and nearly grown offspring.

All the birds chirped curiously as they watched newcomer George shuffle shyly on his perch.

Soon the connecting doors were opened, and George soared up into his new home.

Everyone seemed very busy and far too active to pay much attention to George.

He tried to introduce himself and make friends, but the nesting season was already underway.

The females were sitting on their nests and when he flew to a perch nearby to introduce himself, they quickly chased away the little orange canary.

One even bit his wingtip hard enough to make it bleed, reminding him of the mate he’d once known. He decided to leave the females alone after that.

George tried to befriend the male canaries, but he found he couldn’t keep up with them. Up and down they flew, bringing food to their mates. When they weren’t doing that, they were feeding the nearly grown one-month olds, or flitting up to the highest perch in the cage for a competitive round of boastful singing and bragging about how many eggs lined their mate’s nest.

As much as he wanted to fit in, George just didn’t feel like he could, so he puffed up his feathers and made a little sound in his throat.

The two ladies who’d adopted him spoke to him often, trying to encourage him in some way, but eventually even their heads fell in dismay. They soon discovered what everyone else did. George just didn’t measure up.

Their disappointment in him made him feel…

sad.

Scratching his cheek, George thought, “If only I could hatch out a family of my own, maybe then I would sing.”

It didn’t take long before George the gorgeous orange canary had gotten his wish.

Within a few weeks, a little pink canary with black tipped wings sidled up to him and showed him her newly built nest. Soon the two of them were busy caring for their four little blue eggs and then, after one egg didn’t hatch, they took turns feeding their three little hatchlings—one with orange down, one pink with orange wings, and one with black wings, an orange head and belly, and a pink tail.

George felt as proud about his brood and mate as the rest of males who stood atop the highest perch every day, their necks stretched to the sky, crowing to the morning sun, but try as he might, he still couldn’t bring himself to sing. There wasn’t even a tell-tale tickle in his throat or the tiniest itch to join them in their revelry.

As he looked around at the large aviary with its plentiful fresh vegetables, bubbling bird baths, millet sprays, bowls of seed, and toys, and at his sweet mate stuffing food into the ever-hungry mouths of his babies, and at his expansive new bird family, he felt peaceful and content.

Still…

George, the orange canary, couldn’t help looking back.

Too many things in his life had gone wrong. He’d done nothing to deserve it. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right. How could he be asked to forget past hurts?

“Besides,” George, considered, “taking care of young ones saps all my energy. Perhaps I’ll feel differently about such things after they’re grown.”

As George reflected on his past, it still made him feel…

Sad.

While feeding his babies, George thought, “If only I could just get my young ones raised, maybe then I would sing.”

Days passed, then weeks, and sure enough, George’s young family grew up, depending on their colorful papa less and less until finally, they could fend for themselves.

The summer days grew shorter and shorter and then the rains came.

George looked outside their window at the droplets of water hitting the panes and clicked his beak. “There’s definitely nothing to sing about now,” he thought as he struggled in vain to see the beautiful evergreen meadow on the other side.

The long nights and dark rainy days weren’t just affecting him. All the birds had gone quiet. Most of them were sleeping long hours or going through a molt.

A melancholy George echoed the mood of the gloomy weather. He sighed as his feathers drooped.

The orange canary just couldn’t help it. Nothing was wrong with him in particular. Still, he just felt…

Sad.

Staring at the gray sky, George ruffled his feathers and thought, “If only I could see the spring sun again and feel it’s warmth on my feathers, maybe then I would sing.”

Winter finally passed and spring came.

All the other canaries began preparations for a new nesting season, each male burst into his best song to impress the female of his choice. But once again, poor George just didn’t feel like singing, especially when one of the younger males began courting his little pink canary with the black wings.

She sharpened her beak, then turned to George, expectantly, hoping to hear a song.

But what could George do?

He still felt…

sad.

Turning around, his tail feathers facing the others, George stared at his reflection in the window and listened to his rival’s courting song.

It was beautiful.

Try as he might, George knew nothing he could produce would be nearly as impressive.

George examined his feelings once more and knew they hadn’t changed.

If he wanted to, he could come up with one reason after another, after another and it would continue on that way for the rest of his life.

The little orange canary knew…

It was time to face the truth.

It didn’t matter if it was spring or winter, if he was busy or not, or if he had a friend or a mate or if he was alone.

At that moment, George realized that if he waited for something else or someone else to make him want to sing, then we would probably never, ever sing.

So the little orange canary shook out his feathers, took a deep breath…

And sang…

Anyway.

His song was barely a note at first.

Just a squeak or two really.

But then, the melody just tumbled out of him faster and faster.

George sang and sang and, yes, it was a song about all the things that made George sad, but, slowly, it changed into something else. The song George created was about so much more than sorrow.

It was about life.

So masterful and so beautiful was George’s song, that it caused all the birds in the aviary to stop what they were doing and listen.

Even George’s human family came into the room.

The two women silently cried as they listened, wiping tears away with flour-stained aprons. They hugged each other and murmured quiet things like, “We waited so long, Georgie,” and, “You finally did it. We’re so happy for you.”

Not that George would have noticed.

He didn’t see them because his eyes had closed as he trilled out the sweetest, most lovely song any of the birds or humans had ever heard.

When George was finally finished, and the last note hung in the air, he opened his eyes and saw the reflections of all the birds and the people staring at him in the window.

Quickly, he turned himself around and a feeling welled in his little orange breast.

It made him want to stretch up on the tops of his thin tiny legs and belt out another song and another.

So he did.

Flipping around quickly, he took in a large breath of air and began a new tune with a sharp, piercing whistle.

Soon the other male canaries joined him on the perch, landing next to him, each trying to oust the other, jockeying for a position right next to him.

The two human women dashed the tears from their eyes and clapped happily as they watched each canary dance a jig as they sang together.

That’s when George finally understood.

First, it was the hard experiences of life that made him appreciate the good things he had now. They were what gave his songs depth and made his melody soar. Without the ups and downs of life, he would have nothing to sing about.

Second, he would never find happiness by waiting for good things to happen to him, but he could always find it by giving good things to others.

From that day on, George never waited to sing.

He was always the first canary to welcome the new day.

And the question he asked every day changed. Instead of thinking, “If only I could, maybe then I would,” he turned the question around.

Each day George would find someone who looked despondent and ask, “If only you could have one wish, maybe then I would sing it possible.”

Now most birds and people probably know that wishes don’t come true simply because they are sung about.

Still…

Singing about the wishes of others every day makes George feel…

Happy.

And…since it’s been said that the happiest of all songbirds are…

orange canaries…

I, for one…

Believe that canaries can indeed sing wishes into reality.

So as we come to the end of our story…

George has just one question for you.

If only you could…

What would you wish for?

Listen…

Maybe…just maybe…a beautiful canary can sing your wish possible.