Bluebird and Coyote (A Cherokee Indian tale) Long ago, Bluebird's feathers were dull and brown. Some said they looked gray, but others said they were most definitely brown. “Like mud,” people said. Bluebird lived near a wide, beautiful lake, a lake that was the most beautiful color of blue anyone had ever seen. That lake was bluer than the sky, bluer than blue moons, bluer than bluebonnets growing in the nearby meadow. The lake was so blue that whenever anyone passed by, they could not help but stop and stare. All the animals admired the lake, and many stood beside its shores comparing its color to other beautiful things of this world. “It's bluer than blueberries,” the bears said. “Bluer than blue macaws,” said the deer. “Bluer than our wings,” said the butterflies. “Bluer than sadness,” said Bluebird. The color of that water never changed because there were no streams flowing in or out of the lake. Every day Bluebird sat in a tree overlooking the lake and looked down, admiring that lake. She sang a song to the lake every single morning. “How lovely it would be to look like you ... if only I were blue, like you.” One day Bluebird decided to swim in the lake. She flew to the shore, held her breath, and dived into the water. She bobbed to the surface and splashed about, singing at the top of her lungs, “If only I were blue, like you ...” The bears and the deer and the butterflies and all the other creatures of the forest laughed at her, but Bluebird didn't care. When she was finished, she flew to the top of the tree and shook her feathers dry. But when she looked at them, she saw they were as brown as mud, as brown as a fawn, as brown as a stump. They were as brown as a walnut and brown as the bears. “If only I were blue,” Bluebird sang. “How lovely to be blue, like you ...” Once again the others laughed, and from a distance Coyote watched. In the morning Bluebird dived in again and splashed about, admiring the blue glistening beneath the bright sunshine. When she flew up to the top of the tree, she shook herself dry and looked at her wings. But they were still as brown as the bears, as brown as prairie dogs, as brown as the branch of the tree on which she perched. The next day she dived into the lake again, and she splashed about, and afterward she flew into the tree, but her feathers remained brown. The following morning she sang to the lake once again, “One more time ...” She dived, and as she splashed about, she sang, “If only I were blue, like you ...” Then she flew up to the top of the tree, and this time when she flapped her wings, she was amazed to see they had turned blue! Bluer than blue. The most beautiful blue in the world. “I'm blue like you!” she sang exuberantly. Now Coyote came to see all this up close, and when he saw her, he could not believe his eyes. She was beautiful — as blue as blueberries and bluebells and blue moons. “How did you do that?” Coyote asked. “I dived in four times,” Bluebird said, “and I sang to the lake.” And then she taught Coyote her song. After he had learned the song, Coyote steeled himself. Coyote did not like to swim, but he wanted more than anything to be this beautiful, and so he dived into the lake, and he sang the song. When he walked out, he was as dull as ever, but he didn't give up. “Four times I shall swim!” he said. The next day he dived in again. He did this four days in a row. Each time Coyote dived in and splashed about and sang the song Bluebird had taught him. On the fourth day he climbed out of the lake and there he was, blue as blue can be, as blue as blueberries and bluebonnets and blue moons. He was as blue as Bluebird. Coyote was very proud of himself. He was so proud that he didn't wait to dry off. He began to run around, showing off his brand-new coat. “Look at me!” he howled. “I'm bluuuuuuuuue ... Everyone look at me!” He stared at his shadow as he ran. “Is my shadow blue too?” he wondered aloud. “Am I the most beautiful creature anyone has ever seen?” He called to every rabbit and bird and bear and butterfly he passed. He called to the deer. “Look at me! I am bluuuuue!” But Coyote was so busy admiring himself and looking for others to brag to, he wasn't looking ahead, and suddenly he ran headfirst into a tree stump on the edge of the path. His head began to spin and he saw stars. He tried to stand up, but he was so dizzy, he staggered unsteadily and fell to the ground. He rolled over and over, howling in pain. And the ground was dusty and dirty — the color of mud, of tree trunks, of walnuts, of bears. Pretty soon Coyote was the color of the dirt, and ever since that day every coyote has been brown and dusty gray. And every bluebird is blue — as blue as the sky and as blue as the lake. — Adapted by Amy Friedman and illustrated by Jillian Gilliland __
