French fiction -- Translations into English; Short stories, French -- Translations into English
At the foot of the long arbour lay a dying birdling. He had as yet no
feathers, but a thin black down covered his bluish skin now painfully
heaving with the last spasms of agony. My first motion was to climb in
search of the nest from which the victim had fallen. I had not mounted a
yard from the ground before I found a little dead body similar to the
one I had just seen, and while I peered upward into the shadow, what
should tumble on to my head but a third member of the same brood. I
finally distinguished the nest, and soon little, stifled cries warned me
of something going on in it. I bent to one side, to get a better view,
and discovered in the midst of the down-lined dwelling a great grayish
black bird surrounded by three wretched wee ones who had not as yet been
tossed into the abyss, but who were rendered miserably uncomfortable by
the inordinate growth of their big brother.
A cuckoo had deposited her egg there, and the parents, stupidly
deceived, lavishing the same care upon the intruder as upon their own
young, had succeeded only in absurdly favouring the strongest.
Meanwhile, he had grown to twice or thrice the size of his "brothers,"
and without, presumably, seeking any satisfaction but his "liberty," as
the economists put it, he was taking up the room of others, for the sole
reason that the development of his organs required it.
Like all young birds, the baby cuckoo automatically flapped his wings,
to exercise his joints. In a normal nest, this movement of each inmate
is limited and regulated by the same movement on the part of the others.
But here, too great strength was in conflict with too great weakness,
and the cuckoo's thick, stumpy wings, on which feathers were already
appearing, spread to the very edge of the nest, lifting the feeble
little ones on to the monster's back, whence a shake flung them
overboard. The crime occurred even while I watched. The worst of it was
seeing the stupid parents, in spite of all, diligently feeding the
infamous fratricide. Careless of the lamentations of their own children,
they could see in the nest only the huge hollow of a voracious beak,
which gobbled whatever they brought, notwithstanding the timid efforts
of the competitors, doomed beforehand to defeat. And so the
disproportion in growth augmented daily, the one taking everything, and
the others condemned to watch him helplessly. The social question is
repeated in every thicket on earth!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account