Nature’s Beautiful Ornaments

Jurong Bird Park in Singapore closed in its existing location on 3^rd January.

The park opened on 3^rd January 1971, and after 52 years at Jurong Hill it is now moving to a new location. My association with the park dates to 1985 when I first visited the park. I am sad to see it move, but I am happy it will sprout again in a new place. It has been conceptualized, soon it will be hatched and fledge in due course.

The colours, the determinedness, the purposefulness, the playfulness, the differences, and yet the harmonious coexistence of different birds therein was endearing.

Do they bicker and complain to the rest? Thank God, I do not understand the language of the feathered creatures!

I saw a crowned pigeon that had found a perfect branch for its nest to raise the next generation. It navigated human traffic to carry the branch safely up to its nest. It was lovely to see the focus of that pigeon. (see pictures below)

The parakeets and lorikeets unabashedly engaged in public displays of affection. Could we not do with a little more of that? (see pictures below)

Over the years, I cannot recall the innumerable times I have visited the place. It was lovely to be there on the day it closed.

The birds will be flocked together, I am certain of that. What happens to the gorgeous trees at Jurong Hill?

As I stood there saying goodbye to the place, my thoughts wandered, and I pondered, would Jurong Hill and the gorgeous trees there miss the vibrancy of the place? Will they become a little lonely? If they could share their stories, would they feel like the mountain in the story, “The Mountain That Loved A Bird?”

The Mountain That Loved A Bird 

by Alice McLerran

There once stood a mountain made of a huge rock. It stood alone, in the middle of the desert plains. Nothing grew on its hard slopes, no plants, or trees, and hence no animal, bird or insect lived there. The sun warmed it, and the wind cooled it. The only touch that the mountain knew was the touch of pelting rain and scorching sun. All day long and all night long the mountain looked at the sky and entertained itself watching the shapeshifting clouds. 

It knew the direction of the sun and the phases of the moon. The mountain entertained itself with the various formations of the stars. There was nothing more to see. 

Then one day, a small bird appeared. She flew in a circle above the mountain, then landed on it, to rest and preen her feathers. The mountain felt the dry grasp of her tiny claws on the ledge. It felt the softness of her feathered body as she sheltered herself against its side. The mountain was amazed, for nothing like this had ever come to it from the sky before. “Who are you?” the mountain asked. “What is your name?” 

“I am a bird.” she said. “My name is Joy. I come from distant lands where everything is green. Every spring I fly high into the air looking for the best place to build my nest and raise my children. As soon as I have rested, I must continue my search.” The mountain had never seen anything like a bird before! It asked the bird to stay back. But Joy shook her head and she said, “Birds are living things, we need food and water. There is nothing here for me to eat, no streams to drink water.”  The mountain told the bird to please come back again even if she could not stay. Joy thought for a while. “I fly long distances” she said, “and I have rested on many mountains. No other mountain has ever cared whether I came or went. I should like to return to you, but I could only do so in the spring before I build my nest. And because you are so far from food and water, I can only stay a few hours.” The mountain had never seen anything like a bird before and it was happy and said, even if it is just for a few hours, I would be delighted to see you again.  Joy warned the mountain and let it know that birds do not live very many years, and they fly into danger often. Mountains last for an exceptionally long time. Even if she were to visit the mountain every spring of her life, there might only be a few visits.

“It will be very sad when the visits stop.” said the mountain, “but it would be even sadder if you flew away and never returned.”  Joy sat very still nestled against the side of the mountain.

Then she sang a song, “I am Joy! Hoi! Oh boy! Joy! Joy! Joy!” The mountain had never heard a song. When Joy finished her song, she said, “Because no mountain has ever before cared whether I came and went, I will make you a promise. Every spring of my life, I will return to greet you and fly above you and to sing to you. And since my life will not last forever, I will give to one of my daughters, my own name, Joy and tell her how to find you. And she will name a daughter Joy too and tell her how to find you. Each daughter Joy will have a daughter Joy, so that no matter how many years pass you will always have a friend to greet you and sing to you. The mountain was both happy and sad. “I still wish you could stay,” it said, “but I am glad that you will return.”

“Now I must go.” said Joy, “It is a long way to the lands with food and water for me. Goodbye until next year.” She soared off. The mountain watched her until she disappeared into the distance. Year after year, when every spring came, a small bird flew to the mountain singing, “I am Joy! Hoi! Oh boy! Joy! Joy! Joy! and I have come to greet you.” And for a few hours the bird would fly above the mountain or nestle against its side, singing. At the end of each visit the mountain always asked, “Isn’t there some way you could stay?” And Joy always answered, “No, but I will return next year.”  Each year the mountain looked forward more and more to Joy’s visit and each year it grew harder and harder to watch her go.

Ninety-nine springs came and went in this way. On the hundredth spring when it was time for Joy to leave, the mountain asked once more, “Isn’t there some way you could stay?” And Joy answered as she always did. “No but I will return next year.” The mountain watched as she disappeared into the sky and suddenly its heart broke. The hard stone cracked and from the deepest part of mountain, tears gushed forth and rolled down the mountainside in a stream. The next spring a small bird appeared singing. “I am Joy! Hoi! Oh boy! Joy! Joy! Joy! and I have come to greet you.” That time the mountain did not reply. It only wept thinking of how soon she would have to leave and of all the long months before she would come again. Joy rested on her ledge looked at the stream of tears. When she flew above the mountain, saying as she always did that it was time for her to go, the mountain still wept. “I will return next year” said Joy softly and she flew away. When the next spring came, Joy returned, carrying in her beak, a small seed. The mountain still wept a stream of tears. Joy carefully tucked the seed into a crack on the hard stone, close to the stream so that it would stay moist. Then she flew above the mountain and sang to it. “I am Joy! Hoi! Oh boy! Joy! Joy! Joy! and I have come to greet you.” Seeing that the mountain was still unable to speak, she flew away once more. Days turned to weeks and then to months, the seed in the crack of the rock began to send down tiny roots. The roots reached into the hard stone little by little, spreading into the smaller cracks, breaking through the hardness. As the roots found water in the cracks, and drew food from the softening stone, a shoot rose from the seed into the sunlight and unfolded tiny green leaves. 

The mountain however was still deep in sorrow, blind with tears. It did not notice the plants so small. 

The next spring, Joy brought another fruit seed and the spring after that another. She placed each one in a protected place near the stream of tears and sang to the mountain. The mountain still wept. Years passed in this way. The roots of new plants softening the stone near the stream of tears. The softened stone turned to soil; moss began to grow in sheltered corners. Grass, shrubs, and wildflowers sprouted in hollows near the stream. Soon tiny insects that were carried to the mountain by the wind scurried past. 

Meanwhile the roots of the very first seedling went deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain. Then a tiny shoot grew into the trunk of a young tree, its branches held green leaves out to the sun. At last, the mountain felt the roots reaching down like gentle fingers, filling and healing the cracks in its heart. 

Sorrow faded away and the mountain noticed the changes that were taking place. Seeing and feeling so many wonderful new things, the mountains tears changed to tears of joy. Each year Joy returned bringing a different fruit seed and each year more streams ran laughing down the mountainside and the land around became green. 

Now that the mountain no longer wept with sorrow, it began to ask once more. “Isn’t there some way you could stay?” But Joy still answered, “No, but I will return next year.”  More years passed and the streams carried life far out into the plains surrounding the mountain, until finally as far as the mountain could see everything was green. From lands beyond the horizon, small animals began to come to the mountain. Watching these living things find food and shelter on its slopes, the mountain suddenly felt a surge of hope. Opening its deepest heart to the roots of the trees it offered them all its strength. The trees stretched their branches yet higher towards the sky and hope ran like a song from the heart of the mountain to every branch, stem, leaf, bud, flower, and fruit.

When the next spring came, Joy flew to the mountain carrying not a seed but a slender twig. Straight to the tallest tree on the mountain she flew, to the apple tree that had grown from the very first seed. She placed the twig on the branch in which she would build her nest. “I am Joy! Hoi! Oh boy! Joy! Joy! Joy! I have come to stay.”   

Hope heals!