The Borrowed Feathers

A small jay visited a garden where peacocks walked across the lawn. Their great tails shimmered blue and green. The jay admired the colours and wished his own feathers looked grander.

Beneath a low wall, he found feathers the peacocks had naturally shed. Each had a bright eye-shaped pattern. He collected several and lined them up carefully in the grass.

The jay tucked the loose feathers behind his own tail. They made a splendid fan, though it wobbled whenever he stepped. He practised a slow, proud walk beside the wall.

He walked toward the peacocks and tried to join their circle. Instead of explaining his costume, he announced that he belonged with them now. His fellow jays watched from a tree.

The peacocks noticed the loose feathers and the little blue bird beneath them. They recognised that he was a jay. One asked why he was pretending to be something else.

The jay felt embarrassed. A feather slipped onto the grass, followed by another. Without the borrowed fan, he looked just as he had that morning, with his own neat blue wings.

He returned to the tree where the other jays were waiting. They had missed him, and they were hurt that he had acted as though their company was not good enough.

The jay apologised and explained how much he admired the peacocks. His friends said he could enjoy beautiful feathers without hiding who he was or dismissing the birds who cared for him.

He carried the fallen feathers to the garden wall and made a little display. The peacocks and jays admired it together. This time he called it a collection, not his own tail.

When the jay flew home, his blue wings flashed against the sky. Borrowed colours could be lovely, but his own voice, skill, and friendships were already things worth keeping.