The story of how the swan learned to fly.

The Flight of the Swan

I.

What people don't know about birds is that their first flight was not an act of freedom but an act of fear.

In another life, in another time, birds used to roam the earth, their feet never leaving the ground. Among them, the most beautiful was the swan, with her white feathers and long and slender neck. More than anything, she loved the earth and the grass beneath her feet, and she loved the cool water against her feathers as she drifted down the river.

She loved the earth. It gave her a warm nest and plenty of plants to eat and a nice pond all to herself, and she was content.

She thought she might stay there forever.

But forever never had a chance because one day, he appeared – the man. He had discovered one of her feathers in the grass and, enchanted, knew he had to have her. For the man had an appreciation for beautiful things and a growing collection of them, and what could be more beautiful than her.

He found her oasis, saw her sleeping there in her nest, and pulled out his net, ready to strike. As he inched forward, she slumbered on, lost in dreams of forest floors and solid ground and happy things. The net fell over her, a heavy cage, ripping her from sweet dreams with a jolt. Disoriented, she stumbled away, frantically flapping those snowy wings. But the net stuck, and over rope and twigs, she tripped and crashed into the ground, a small cry of panic bursting from her beak.

The man approached, his face contorting in laughter. And deep inside her erupted an anger and an energy she had never known, and with one mighty flap of her wings, she threw off her cage. And with another flap of those wings, her feet left the earth and she burst into the skies, free.

Down on the ground, her feathered brethren watched her soar through the air, over treetops and mountains. And in solidarity and fear, they too spread their wings and took to the heavens. For if even the swan, the most sacred and beautiful of them, was no longer safe on earth, what hope did they have?

They took to the skies in fear, but they stayed for freedom, for the skies were made of dreams and wishes and possibilities. And high above the ground, they were content.

They thought they might stay there forever.

From that day on, the atmosphere was never without cheerful chirps or happy songs or the soft flutter of wings.

But one voice was absent – the swan's. Unlike all the other birds, she did not care for flying. It was so exhausting. She circled over her beloved spot in the forest, and seeing that the man had gone, dared to flutter down towards her nest. As she got closer, she spied something shiny. It looked like teeth, sharp ones, and in the middle lay an offering of her favorite plant. Before she could reach it, a small bluebird whizzed towards it and with a taunting chirp, grabbed the snack in his talons. He had barely lifted his wings when the jaw clamped shut. And the bluebird chirped no more.

With a shriek, the swan returned to the skies, just as the man burst out from behind a tree. Up in the air, she watched him, saw his anger at the blood-stained feathers that were blue, not white. He stalked off, net empty, but she knew, she knew he would return.

All around her, her friends continued to twitter, happily unaware of the danger below. No one heard the swan, weeping for the life that had been lost, for her life that she had lost.

Freedom comes at a price.

But it was a price she did not choose to pay, a price she had never wanted to pay. Because what good was being free if she could never return to the place that made her happy?

And from that day on, the birds stayed in the skies, returning to the earth only to build nests and families. And even then, they chose only the tallest trees, the highest mountains, all to be closer to the clouds.

The swan made no nests. If she could not have that home, she thought, she would have no home, and if she could not be happy on the ground, she would at least be happy in the skies. So she flitted here and there, stopping only for food and sleep, and only when she was absolutely certain there was no danger. And slowly, the swan grew accustomed to flight, and slowly, she even let herself believe she was happy up there with the wind beneath her wings.

But sometimes, she could not resist the lure of a cool body of water and a soft spot in the grass. Sometimes, she could not resist the feel of the soft earth underneath her feet.

So, every once in a blue moon, shrouded in the dark of the night, she let herself return to earth. Each visit, a different pond, a different river, a different field.

Because more than anything, she loved the earth.

And in those moments, she dreamed of solid ground and happy things and earthbound days, and she was finally content.

And she wished she could stay there forever.