The Kites and the Swans

Long ago, the kites could sing. You would not think so now, if you heard those big brown hunting birds whistling over the hills, but in those days they sang as sweetly as the swans. The swans sang on the water, the kites sang in the sky, and the whole valley stopped to listen.

One bright day, in a field below, a horse threw up his head and neighed.

The kites stopped in the middle of a note. "What was that?" said one. "It was so big and so bold that it shook the hills!"

"Let us do it too," said another. So they flew down to the fence and stretched out their necks. "Neigh!" they squeaked. "Nee-ee-igh!" All that day they tried, and all that long summer, until they could think of nothing else.

When they grew tired at last, they said, "Let us sing our old song." They opened their beaks, and out came one thin, high whistle. They tried again, and the same thin whistle came out. The song was gone.

Far below, on the water, the swans sang on.