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The Trumpet of the Swan. Fred Marcellino
Читать онлайн.Название The Trumpet of the Swan
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780008139438
Автор произведения Fred Marcellino
Жанр Детская проза
Издательство HarperCollins
The cob stood quietly, thinking about what his wife had just told him. He was a brave, noble bird, and already he was beginning to work out a plan for his little son Louis.
“If it’s really true that Louis has no voice,” said the cob to himself, “then I shall provide him with a device of some sort, to enable him to make a lot of noise. There must be some way out of this difficulty. After all, my son is a Trumpeter Swan; he should have a voice like a trumpet. But first I will test him to make certain that what his mother says is true.”
The cob was unable to sleep that night. He stood on one leg, quietly, but sleep never came. Next morning, after everyone had enjoyed a good breakfast, he led Louis apart from the others.
“Louis,” he said, “I wish to speak to you alone. Let’s just you and I take a swim by ourselves to the other end of the pond, where we can talk privately without being interrupted.”
Louis was surprised by this. But he nodded his head and followed his father, swimming strongly in his wake. He did not understand why his father wanted to speak to him alone, without his brothers and sisters.
“Now!” said the cob, when they reached the upper end of the pond. “Here we are, gracefully floating, supremely buoyant, at some distance from the others, in perfect surroundings—a fine morning, with the pond quiet except for the song of the blackbirds, making the air sweet.”
“I wish my father would get to the point,” thought Louis.
“This is an ideal place for our conference,” continued the cob. “There is something I feel I should discuss with you very candidly and openly—something that concerns your future. We need not range over the whole spectrum of bird life but just confine our talk to the one essential thing that is before us on this unusual occasion.”
“Oh, I wish my father would get to the point,” thought Louis, who by this time was getting very nervous.
“It has come to my attention, Louis,” continued the cob, “that you rarely say anything. In fact, I can’t recall ever hearing you utter a sound. I have never heard you speak, or say ko-hoh, or cry out, either in fear or in joy. This is most unusual for a young Trumpeter. It is serious. Louis, let me hear you say beep. Go ahead, say it! Say beep!”
Poor Louis! While his father watched, he took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and let the air out, hoping it would say beep. But there wasn’t a sound.
“Try again, Louis!” said his father. “Perhaps you’re not making enough of an effort.”
Louis tried again. It was no use. No sound came from his throat. He shook his head, sadly.
“Watch me!” said the cob. He raised his neck to its full height and cried ko-hoh so loud it was heard by every creature for miles around.
“Now let me hear you go beep!” he commanded. “Say beep, Louis—loud and clear!” Louis tried. He couldn’t beep.
“Let me hear you burble! Go ahead and burble! Like this: burble, burble, burble.”
Louis tried to burble. He couldn’t do it. No sound came.
“Well,” said the cob, “I guess it’s no use. I guess you are dumb.”
When he heard the word “dumb,” Louis felt like crying. The cob saw that he had hurt Louis’s feelings. “You misunderstand me, my son,” he said in a comforting voice. “You failed to understand my use of the word ‘dumb,’ which has two meanings. If I had called you a dumb cluck or a dumb bunny, that would have meant that I had a poor opinion of your intelligence. Actually, I think you are perhaps the brightest, smartest, most intelligent of all my cygnets. Words sometimes have two meanings; the word ‘dumb’ is such a word. A person who can’t see is called blind. A person who can’t hear is called deaf. A person who can’t speak is called dumb. That simply means he can’t say anything. Do you understand?”
Louis nodded his head. He felt better, and he was grateful to his father for explaining that the word had two meanings. He still felt awfully unhappy, though.
“Do not let an unnatural sadness settle over you, Louis,” said the cob. “Swans must be cheerful, not sad; graceful, not awkward; brave, not cowardly. Remember that the world is full of youngsters who have some sort of handicap that they must overcome. You apparently have a speech defect. I am sure you will overcome it, in time. There may even be some slight advantage, at your age, in not being able to say anything. It compels you to be a good listener. The world is full of talkers, but it is rare to find anyone who listens. And I assure you that you can pick up more information when you are listening than when you are talking.”
“My father does quite a lot of talking himself,” thought Louis.
“Some people,” continued the cob, “go through life chattering and making a lot of noise with their mouth; they never really listen to anything—they are too busy expressing their opinions, which are often unsound or based on bad information. Therefore, my son, be of good cheer! Enjoy life; learn to fly! Eat well; drink well! Use your ears; use your eyes! And I promise that someday I will make it possible for you to use your voice. There are mechanical devices that convert air into beautiful sounds. One such device is called a trumpet. I saw a trumpet once, in my travels. I think you may need a trumpet in order to live a full life. I’ve never known a Trumpeter Swan to need a trumpet, but your case is different. I intend to get you what you need. I don’t know how I will manage this, but in the fullness of time it shall be accomplished. And now that our talk has come to a close, let us return gracefully to the other end of the pond, where your mother and your brothers and sisters await us!”
The cob turned and swam off. Louis followed. It had been an unhappy morning for him. He felt frightened at being different from his brothers and sisters. It scared him to be different. He couldn’t understand why he had come into the world without a voice. Everyone else seemed to have a voice. Why didn’t he? “Fate is cruel,” he thought. “Fate is cruel to me.” Then he remembered that his father had promised to help, and he felt better. Soon they joined the others, and everyone started water games, and Louis joined in, dipping and splashing and diving and twisting. Louis could splash water farther than any of the others, but he couldn’t shout while he was doing it. To be able to shout while you are splashing water is half the fun.
AT THE end of the summer, the cob gathered his family around him and made an announcement.
“Children,” he began, “I have news for you. Summer is drawing to a close. Leaves are turning red, pink, and pale yellow. Soon the leaves will fall. The time has come for us to leave this pond. The time has come for us to go.”
“Go?” cried all the cygnets except Louis.
“Certainly,” replied their father. “You children are old enough to learn the facts of life, and the principal fact of our life right now is this: we can’t stay in this marvellous location much longer.”
“Why not?” cried all the cygnets except Louis.
“Because summer is over,” said the cob, “and it is the way of swans to leave their nesting site at summer’s end and travel south to a milder place where the food supply is good. I know that you are all fond of this pretty pond, this marvellous marsh, these reedy shores and restful retreats. You have found life pleasant and amusing here. You have learned to dive and swim