November 24, 2024

2 Samuel 23:1-7
John 18:33-37

The noio, or black noddy, nests in the cliffs above the breaking waves on Hawai’i Island (and, actually, on lots of islands. They’re all over the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans). You’ll tend to find a lot of them close together. They raise their young together, they fly together, and they fish together.

One of the younger noio was fast, big, and strong. There were a few who were faster. There were one or two that were bigger. Nobody could remember anyone who was quite that strong, though. He used that strength to pick up fish that were just a little bigger than everyone else, and as you might expect, that was part of what made him big and strong.

One day as he was out fishing with lots of other noio, he saw an ‘Iwa, a great frigatebird, soaring around overhead. He didn’t think much of it until the ‘iwa dove down upon the flock of circling noio. It chased a noio who had just caught a fish until the noio dropped it, and then snatched the fish from the air, ate it, and climbed back into the sky.

Then the ‘iwa did it again. And again.

When it was no longer hungry it flew away. The frustrated noio returned to their fishing.

The big, strong noio was impressed. The ‘iwa had had a complete meal and never caught a fish on its own. That seemed like a lot less work than sweeping over the surface to pluck a squid from below.

So he tried it. He chased another noio, and it worked. The noio dropped its fish, and the bigger, stronger noio ate it. Then he did it again. And again.

The other noio squawked at him to no avail. He did it over and over until he was satisfied.

Nobody would speak to him later.

Nobody would speak to him the next day when he did it again. His friends, his cousins, even his own sisters wouldn’t say a thing except to squawk as he swooped and pecked to make them drop their fish.

Later, though, one of his uncles landed next to him on his ledge, which should have been crowded with noio, but everybody left when he landed. Except, now, there was his uncle, another big, strong bird.

“I heard what you’ve been doing,” said his uncle. “You’ve learned to be an ‘iwa.”

“I’m eating pretty well, too,” said the nephew. “You’re big enough to try it. It would work for you.”

“I did try it, long ago,” said his uncle, “but it wasn’t worth the price.”

“What price?” asked his nephew, though he already knew.

“The price of an empty ledge,” said his uncle. “The price of never having a friend, except for someone else who’ll bully with you, and who will bully you the first chance they get. The price of the skies emptying when they see you. The price of hearing only the wind and the waves when you should be hearing the cries of other noio.”

The nephew said nothing.

“Look around, nephew,” said the uncle. “Where are your cousins now? Who are your friends? Who do you fly with?

“Is it worth the price?”

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Story

I writes these stories in advance, but I tell them from memory (and improvisation), so what you read will not match what you see and hear.

Photo by Eric Anderson.