There was a little bird, who couldn't sing a song. He would squawk and cackle and try his best to greet the coming dawn. He could never join the chorus, or the majesty of his flock. They'd line the trees each morning, as he'd hide down by the river, and longingly he'd watch. As the years grew on he lost all trace of want and jealousy. He'd just sit and enjoy the music, and contented he would be.
He never gave up hope though, that one day he'd find his song. Sometimes he would practice, and practice all night long. The other birds would feel pity as they heard his broken call, coming from the riverside after darkness would fall.
One morning a group of young birds, came and rested down by him, alighting over the river on their way to sing. Suddenly a gust of wind caused the branch to sway, the weight of all the birds must have been too high that day. As he watched the branch did crack and in the water fell, panic soon gripped him as birds do not swim well.
He opened up his beak and let out a mighty call, it was broken and it was out of tune, but it was recognised by all. The other birds all heard it and were alerted straight away, for the bird by the river was never heard at this time of day. Diving down like well practised pilots, over the water they could skim. They lifted out the young birds and laid them down next to him.
As those young birds grew to adults, a story they would tell, of how their lives were saved by a bird who never sang well. From that day he took pride of place up on the wing. And any time he wanted, for him they all would sing.