Moving Mountains

“Come to me, mountain, for I am hungry." Chirp, chirp went the bird.

And the mountain heard the call. Bending and contorting itself boulder by boulder, it moved. After much effort, the mountain came to the bird. Bringing seeds. And the bird was pleased.

Just as the bird had its fill, another bird on another reed, in another direction, went chirp-chirp. “Come to me, my mountain, for I am hungry.”

And once again, the mountain went to great lengths to reach the bird.

Each day was the same. The mornings grew heavy because it was time to move more mountains.

But the birds were happy, and that’s all that mattered. Well, until one day. Instead of one bird calling, two called at once and from different directions. Then three at once. Even four.

It got to the point where the mountain was pulled in so many directions that it could do nothing. It froze. Stopped bending. Stopped contorting.

The birds chirped louder and louder, but the mountain still didn’t budge. Desperately hungry, one of the birds decided to do something. It left off its reed. Thinking it would simply fall to the ground, the bird was shocked that it rose higher. It could fly.

It could fly high and fast, and it could go to the mountain to get its food all by itself. It didn’t have to wait. It could eat whenever it wanted.

One by one, the rest of the birds followed suit. It was the day the mountain learned it was best to stay a mountain. Bending and contorting were not only exhausting but also ineffective. By staying put, it allowed the birds to do what birds do best: fly. And being a mountain became effortless.