Birdie and the Bird of Paradise.
Hello, this is Jana and I'm here with a story about a bird of paradise.
You may know that a bird of paradise isn't actually a bird.
It's a plant that looks like an exotic bird.
Or is it?
This story also features another bird whom you may know.
Birdie.
The wise old crow who is best friends with a boy called Jake.
It was Saturday afternoon and Jake's mum wanted to go to the garden centre.
But plants are boring, grumbled Jake.
They don't play football.
They don't sing.
They don't tell stories.
They don't even move.
Oh, plants aren't boring.
Some do fascinating things, said mum.
I want an aloe vera plant for my bedside table because it makes the air fresh and nice to breathe.
You just need it because you have to sleep next to Dad, said Jake.
Come on, Cheeky, said Mum.
We're going to the garden centre, like it or not.
So get your shoes on.
The garden centre was full of the sort of grown-ups who were fascinated by different varieties of grass seed.
Mum spent forever choosing between one aloe vera plant and another.
They all looked the same to Jake.
Green, spiky and boring.
At last, she made her choice.
Nice one, said Jake.
Can we go now?
Not just yet.
I need to choose a pot.
Oh, choosing a pot will take all week.
Reluctantly, Jake followed her around the shop looking for the pot section.
But first, they had to pass through a whole forest of leafy plants.
Some were taller than Jake and some were taller than Mum.
See anything you like? asked Mum.
They're all as boring as each other.
Oh, well what about this one?
I haven't seen one of those before.
You can't call that boring.
That's because it's not a plant, said Jake.
It's a bird.
It was mostly green like the other plants.
But it certainly looked like a bird.
It had a long pointy beak and an orange crown of plumes.
Mum read the label.
Bird of Paradise.
South African plant.
Keeping a bright sunny spot indoors.
It's a plant that looks like a bird, said Mum.
You know, I really like it.
I think I'll get it.
Really?
Really.
Well, I think we should ask Birdie first.
There you go again, sighed Mum.
Birdie this and Birdie that.
Now she was more determined than ever to buy the bird of paradise.
She put it in the kitchen by the glass doors looking on to the garden.
It was more than a whole week before Jake's best friend Birdie came to visit him.
At last, one Monday evening, he heard tap, tap, tap on his window.
Birdie!
Where have you been?
Me?
Oh, here and there, replied the crow.
I really missed you, said Jake.
Really? said Birdie.
I thought you'd found another bird.
Bird?
Downstairs, said Birdie stiffly.
In the kitchen.
That tall fellow, orange plumes, very showy.
What are you talking about?
Oh, I saw him through the glass doors, standing there like he owns the place.
A bird of paradise, apparently.
Birdie fluffed his feathers.
Beautiful plumage, I admit.
But beauty is only feather deep.
Oh, that thing!
That's not a bird.
That's just Mum's boring old plant.
Jake paused.
But when she found it in the garden centre, I had this weird feeling you wouldn't like it.
I did tell her not to buy it.
But you know what Dad says?
If you tell Mum not to do something, she wants to do it even more.
You're very wise for one so young.
No doubt that's because you've had an excellent teacher in wisdom, me, said Birdie.
Yes, said Jake.
You're the wisest old bird there ever was, Birdie.
But tell me, Why don't you like Mum's silly old plant?
Well, there's a story, said Birdie.
So you can pin your ears back and listen.
It was the year 1761 and King George was about to get married.
His bride was to be Princess Charlotte.
She was just 17 when they sent her over from Germany to become the English Queen.
She didn't lay eyes on King George until her wedding day, which was probably a good thing, or she might have done a runner.
Charlotte spoke English rather badly, with a terrible German accent.
She needed a tutor to improve her language skills, and who better than a wise old bird?
Me!
So...
Every morning at nine o'clock sharp I came to the young queen's windowsill and helped her practice her English vowels.
Jake nodded.
That must have been very useful.
Extremely useful, said Birdie.
They paid me crumbs, not even peanuts, but I did it for the honour.
I got to know Queen Charlotte well if I say so myself.
I became her best friend in a strange land.
She was a very civilised young lady.
She appreciated music.
When a small boy called Wolfgang Mozart visited London he played the harps he called for her.
He made up his own tunes and I gave him a few musical tips too.
But most of all, Charlotte loved plants.
Her favourite place to stay was the palace at Kew Gardens.
They brought plants from all over the world and planted them there.
The gardeners fussed over these plants day and night.
Water this one, shade that one, move this one two inches to the left.
Humans love plants more than they love each other.
That's why the garden centres can charge so much for something that just grows.
Still, wee birds like plants and trees too.
One day some botanists brought an exotic plant from Africa.
It looked just like a bird.
Green feathers and bright orange plumes.
Since Queen Charlotte liked it so much, they gave her permission to name it after her German home Strelitz, so its official name became Strelitzia reginae.
But most people called it a bird of paradise.
Like Mum's plant? asked Jake.
Exactly, said Birdie.
And I had a bad feeling about it, because I knew it wasn't just a plant.
It was...
A magical plant.
Jake was finding this plant more interesting now.
What did it do?
Every night when Queen Charlotte was staying at Kew, it would fly to the branch outside her window and sing to her.
She was completely enchanted.
And then it began visiting her in the mornings too, telling her stories about Africa, about lions and elephants and all those sorts of things.
In other words, Queen Charlotte didn't have any time left in her schedule for an old crow.
Oh, Birdie, said Jake, you needn't worry.
I think Mum's silly old plant is dead boring.
I would never swap you for another bird, even if it was the most beautiful bird in the whole world.
It really doesn't matter if you're not good looking.
You're my best friend.
Well, I'm jolly glad to hear it.
Later that night, after Birdie had flown off to wherever he goes at night, Jake woke up.
Or perhaps he had a dream.
He wasn't quite sure.
But he couldn't stop thinking about Mum's plant.
Could it really be a magic plant that turned into a bird at night?
He climbed out of bed and crept downstairs.
He pushed open the kitchen door and peeked in.
There was the plant, standing in its pot by the window, its orange plume glinting in the moonlight.
It was completely still and quiet, just like a plant is supposed to be.
But then, very slowly, it began to turn its head.
It looked straight at Jake with big round eyes.
It flapped its wings.
It hopped from one leg to the other.
Then it fluttered across the kitchen.
It landed on the counter, where it began pecking at a packet of cereal that had been left out for the morning.
Mum!
Mum! shouted Jake.
Come to the kitchen, quick!
Your plants come alive!
The bird flapped its wings in alarm and flew quickly back to its pot.
Jake, what's all this noise about? asked Mum, coming in wearing her dressing gown.
Your plant!
It's alive!
It's a real bird!
Don't be silly, said Mum.
It's just a boring old plant.
You said so yourself a million times.
No, it's not.
It flew across the kitchen and tried to eat my cereal.
You must have been dreaming, said Mum.
Better go back to bed.
I'll bring you some warm milk.
Jake went upstairs.
Mum stayed in the kitchen to warm the milk.
She never told Jake what she saw down there, but she looked rather flustered when she brought up Jake's drink.
And the next day, while Jake was at school, she quietly took the exotic plant back to the garden centre and exchanged it for a yucca plant.
A yucca is a desert plant.
It doesn't need much water, it's very easy to look after, it's reliable and boring in a reassuring sort of way.
And best of all, especially from birdie's point of view it stays put in its pot and never turns into a bird or anything else.
And that was the story of Birdie and the Bird of Paradise.
Drop by soon for more exciting stories.
For now, from me, Jana, bye bye!
