The Purpose of the Robin

The Purpose of the Robin

By Kathryn Mischnick

        A long time ago when the world just began, the birds had a gathering to flaunt their great talents. Swallow could swoop, Sparrowhawk could soar, and Vulture picked carcasses clean. But Red-Breasted Robin had no talent at all. 

        Mourning Dove came with her sweet, gentle voice, and close behind Blue Jay, a notorious thief. Oriole came soon to discuss his sharp beauty, but Red-Breasted Robin had no talent at all. 

        Owl showed off his strong night vision and wisdom, while Mockingbird displayed his ability to act. But Red-Breasted Robin had no talent at all. 

        Then sweet little Goldfinch asked Robin a question. “What is your talent, O Red-Breasted Robin?” He took a deep breath, and looked all around. 

        Glittering eyes peered at him curiously, but before he could answer, Catbird screeched a loud laugh. “He has no talent, can’t you all see? He’s got no life point, no creature to be.” And poor Red-Breasted Robin just turned away, trying to stop the cascade of tears pouring down his cheeks.

        With the next month came dark clouds, filled with heavy snow, and with them came cold as fierce as a lion. Winter was coming, with her icy, frozen breath. She swooped over the land, scattering snow and with it the birds. Owl holed up in his snug, cozy home, while unprepared Bluebird fled as far as he could. Only Red-Breasted Robin stayed where he was, and he called for all his friends. Soon he left too, leading fellow unsuspecting birds to warm weather far, far down south.

        After a long while, the birds gave up hope. “Winter will never leave!” They all cried. “She’ll always keep us here, and Summer will hide!” 

     “I wanna go home!” Kingfisher’s kid wailed. And Red-Breasted Robin saw his chance to be great. He rushed towards the bright sun, the last sign of hope. The sun told him right where to find the thing he most needed, and after many long months of Winter’s strong wrath, Robin flew home with Spring on his wings.

That is why, to this day, the Red-Breasted Robin leads in the spring.

European red-breasted robin

Imagination

Imagination

Written by Kathryn G. Mischnick

     “Come on!” I yelled to my little brother, Ethan. He grinned and leapt to his feet. We dashed away from the blazing campfire and toward the dry, dark field behind my house. I smiled back at Ethan and stepped into a gap between corn stalks. Into the entrance. 

We were transformed. 

Into our secret world we spiraled.

I was Jessie.

He was Nik. 

We were no ordinary humans. We were changers. 

We could become animals or humans. 

I was fox. 

He was coyote.

We were on the run.

Weaving in and out of seemingly endless 

rows 

and rows 

and rows 

of corn.

We fled from ani-changer armies. Hundreds of men and women

who trained to hunt us down. Search planes buzzed overhead, 

and heavy footsteps thumped behind us. 

We hid in a small clump of trees just outside of the 

giant, 

maze-like 

field.

There, we wait for the first, power-filled wave of soldiers to pass.

Then, we began our stealthy journey back.

Back

To 

Home.

     As soon as we left the field and stepped into the light of the warm, cozy campfire, we were transferred back to the real world. Breathless, we stumbled to our camp chairs and collapsed into them, sinking into the fire-warmed fabric. Our parents smiled big smiles, like they understood. Of course they didn’t. They hadn’t just been running for their lives! All kids know that adults have no sense of imagination, so they were no different. I shared a secret eye roll with Ethan, and he smirked.

“Ready?” He asked. I sunk farther into my camp chair.

“One more minute,” I begged. He sighed, obviously irritated. As soon as he sat down, I leapt to my feet.

“Let’s go!” I whooped. He startled, and glared. I grimaced momentarily. He had one evil eye when he wanted to

“Race you,” I teased. He was on his feet before I could bat an eye. I took off, him not far behind me, and we dashed, without hesitation, into our secret world.

I was captured.

Sitting in a 

damp, 

dark, 

cold 

dungeon cell, 

I reflected on how it happened. 

We had used the same plan. 

That was the mistake.

My thoughts roamed, 

and in the process, 

a rhyme popped into my head. 

How to find the thing all changers 

wish 

they could. 

They still haven’t.

With a stick, I wrote.

Poured out my thoughts.

And before I erased it all,

I signed it with the 

official symbol 

of changers.

+(@;*34#

More of a code 

than anything else.

     For awhile I sat on the pile of firewood, waiting for Ethan to come and get me. But food must have started up again, and eventually I joined him. After stuffing ourselves with s’mores, we cautiously approached the field. We were worried what moving the story outside of the field would do. I glanced at Ethan hesitantly and stepped in.

Nothing had changed, except for the fact that the soldiers were gone.

Nik and I race through the rows, 

carefree.

Hollering at the 

top 

of our lungs.

Not fleeing anymore, 

we weave.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

And we turn to face the faint light of the fire.

I one bound, we were gone.

In our place was 

Fox 

and 

Coyote.

Jessie 

and 

Nik.

Going 

Home.

     “Time to come in, kids!” Our parents finally called. My mouth sore from hollering our freedom, I started in. We were almost zombie-like with exhaustion by the time we made it to the house. I crawled into bed, not bothering to brush my hair, and was asleep before the sheet settled.

As I slept,

Dreams came.

I bounded into them, 

A new 

World,

Waiting.

So was Ethan.

I joined him.

And then,

Oblivious to the real world,

The awake world,

I let

Imagination

Take

Over.