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In the lands of old when time was yet a toddler, there lived an owl. His name was Dell. Dell was a simple, modest owl but he had a special gift. He could sing better than any other bird in the world, the rest of whom could only make a variety of modest calls. His voice was so gorgeous that animals from all corners of the land would come to hear its magical sound.

For a time Dell was happy. He would waddle eagerly to his door as the early rays of the sun sluiced through the soft darkness of receding night, ready to sing his morning song. And without fail there would always be an audience waiting to hear the notes of Dell’s song float throught the morning air, soothing them of all their ills and cares. Dell would sing all day long and if there was ever anything he wanted, there was no shortage of animals he could ask to serve his needs. Yes indeed, for a long time all was happy for Dell.

Two of Dell’s most faithful fans were two little birds named Dee and Ed. They spent every day waiting at Dell’s door to listen to his son and every night dreaming that they could be as gifted. One day Dee suggested that perhaps if he and Ed asked very nicely, Dell would teach them his song. Ed thought this was a grand idea. After many days of rehearsing what they were going to say, the two friends worked up the courage to approach Dell with their idea.

As the gentle cape of night fell about the sky while the last rays of sun receded beyond the horizon, Dell finished his last song for the day. Just as Dell began to bow back into his house, Dee and Ed flew up to his door.

“Please excuse us, Mr. Dell, my name is Dee and this is my friend Ed. We were wondering if we could ask you a great question,” Dee said.

None of Dell’s retinue of admirers had ever dared approach him before. Dell was too surprised to know quite what to do.

“Very well,” Dell said, nodding in what he hoped was an appropriately regal manner. Dee and Ed both smiled in relief.

Ed proceeded, “Please, Mr. Dell, Dee and I are fervent admirers of your mighty talent and we can only in our wildest dreams even think of approaching our skill. However, we do want to learn how to sing as best we can so that we can help people as you do.”

Dell was too stunned to speak.

Dee continued.

“We were wondering, Mr. Dell, if you would consider teaching Ed and myself the art of song. It would be an unparalleled honor to learn from a master such as yourself. We are both hard workers, and as Ed said we only wish to help people as you do.” Dell burst out with a guffaw.

“Me, teach you? I do not teach anyone. The Great of Who is Known by Many Names gave me and me alone the gift of song. I cannot and will not teach others. Good day.”

And with that Dell shut the door of his tree-hole firmly in their faces.

Dee and Ed were disappointed but they were not ones to be easily deterred. Thinking that Dell was perhaps testing their perseverance, the two birds waited until the next sunset to approach Dell again.

“Please, Mr. Dell, do you remember me and Ed?” Dee asked.

Dell gave the briefest of nods.

“Please, Mr. Dell, we were wondering if perhaps you had reconsidered our request to be your apprentices?” Ed asked.

Dell gave a short harsh laugh.

“Who do you think you are? The answer is definitely no. Good night and Go away!” Dell shut his door in their faces.

Dee and Ed, saddened by Dell’s response, were nonetheless undeterred in their desire to be his apprentices; rather they thought that perhaps he expected a gift from them. The other birds and animals who admired Dell knew of Dee and Ed’s dream and all of them thought that the more creatures who knew the art of magical song, the better for everybody. So when Dee and Ed asked for help to make a present for Dell, all the animals were more than happy to pitch in.

All night long the many animals set about gathering moonlight and weaving it into a beautiful tapestry of flowering light so that when Dell awoke to sing he would be doubly lit by sun and moon alike as befits a star of his caliber.

In the morning, Dell waddled to his door ready to sing to his crowd of eager admirers but when he opened the door he did not see his typical throng of happy waiting faces; he saw all the animals stretched out asleep smiling up at the tapestry of moonlight.

Aghast, Dell zeroed in; not upon the message of love and thanks embroidered with moonlight, but rather upon the signatures of Dee and Ed who had orchestrated its construction and design. Dell squawked in anger, waking the two little birds. Sleepily they opened their eyes and stared up at Dell before jumping into eager explanations.

“Oh magnificent Dell! Look what we have made—-,” Ed said.

“We spent all night doing this for you!” Dee said.

“Please may we be your apprentices?” both said together.

“NO!” Dell thundered. “Who do you think you are? You may most certainly not be my apprentices. Look at what you have done! Who is awake to hear my song? No one! Now away from my door you infernal beasts!” And with that Dell waddled back into his house.

Dell did not sing that day. All of the animals convened, consulting on what they could do to cheer up Dell so that he might sing again. After much discussion, the birds and animals decided that Dell might better understand Dee and Ed’s intentions if he saw their tapestry at night when it would shine the brightest. The animals formed a plan: Dee and Ed would knock upon Dell’s door while the other birds stood ready; when the door was opened, they would swoop in and carry Dell out like a king to view their gift to him.

Dee and Ed crept up to Dell’s door with great care. They used their little pointed beaks to knock at the door. As the lock began to turn and the door began to creak, the two little birds stuck their heads just a bit forward—Dell swept out and seized them in his talons.

“Who is this? Thieves! Horrible little burglars! Why it’s you!” Dell squawked as he looked at De and Ed. “I refuse to teach you so you try to take what you want by force? This is what happens to thieves!”

Dell flung little Dee up into the sky where his head crashed into the ink of night staining it black forever. Then he shook little Ed by his head feathers so hard they stretched into a stiff point that would never drop or flop. Dell dropped him to the ground.

The other birds were frightened and eager to explain to Dell what was really going on. Desperately they tried to hold Dell back and show him the tapestry while he struggled all the more, all the while squawking a hoarse, “Who is that grabbing me? You let me go! Who is that who grabs? Off! Off” Dell broke free only to crash headlong into his own tree, flattening his face forever.

When Dell awoke he saw Dee and Ed lying next to him. They were no longer in the night-lit forest. They were in the lodge of the Great One Who is Known by Many Names, Creator of the Lands of Old and All Who Dwell Within Them.

“Dell, you have disappointed me,” The Great One’s voice resonated.

“I was no sneak thief or burglar, what have I done to anger you?”

“You have been greedy with your song,” The Great One replied.

“I sing out to everyone every day just as you instructed!”

“But you refused to teach others who wished to learn.” Dell was quiet as his creator continued. “Song is a gift that needs to endure. Therefore I am going to spread all of your songs to all the birds of the lands of old, one to a bird so that none will be lost.”

Dee and Ed were excited to hear this.

“To these two little birds, Chickadee and Tufted Titmouse, I grant the two songs of first quality. Go forth and sing them and teach them in the world.” With that the two grateful little birds left the lodge to return home.

“Now, Dell, to show that I am not wholly mad at you I will let you choose your song. What is it that you wish to tell the world?”

Dell was too stunned that little Dee and Ed, the two nobody presumptuous birds, had gotten the two songs of first quality that he didn’t rightly know what he was saying.

“Who?!? Who got my songs? Those two!? Who?!” Dell repeated. The Great One said, “so be it.” And that is why Owls say Who instead of sing the way other birds do.

THE END

Edited by Tracy McCusker