The Peacock's Beautiful Feathers

In a beautiful garden beside a slow, winding river, there lived a Peacock with the most magnificent tail in all the land. His feathers shimmered with blues and greens and purples and golds, and whenever he fanned them out, every other bird in the garden would stop and stare.

One afternoon, a Crane came to rest beside the river. She was tall and graceful, with soft grey feathers and long elegant legs, and she folded her wings quietly and stood very still.

The Peacock strutted over at once, fanning out his enormous tail.

"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully. "I hope you can see my feathers from where you're standing. They are rather wonderful, don't you think?"

The Crane looked at his tail politely. "They are very lovely," she said.

"Lovely?" said the Peacock, spreading them even wider so that every shimmering eye caught the afternoon light. "I think they are the most beautiful feathers in the whole world! Every creature who sees them stops to admire them. Your feathers, I'm afraid, are rather… grey."

The Crane was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled her gentle crane smile.

"It's true," she said. "My feathers are grey. But you know what grey feathers are wonderful for?"

"What?" said the Peacock.

The Crane spread her great wings slowly, and with two quiet beats she rose up into the air — up above the garden, up above the treetops, up above the hills — until she was soaring high in the wide blue sky, turning slow circles among the clouds.

Then she drifted back down and landed softly beside the Peacock.

"Flying," she said.

The Peacock looked at his own beautiful tail. It was very heavy and very wide, and he had never flown higher than a low fence.

He thought about this for a little while.

"Your feathers are beautiful too," he said at last, looking at her properly for the first time. "Just in a different way."

The Crane nodded kindly. "Most things are."

And the Peacock sat down beside the Crane, and together they watched the evening light turn the river to gold.