The following is my brother’s entertaining retelling of a fable about a tiger raised among goats. Joseph Campbell uses the tale at the end of Myths of Light, citing Ramakrishna’s take on the tale. Part of the story was also used in The Lion King, when old Rafiki, the baboon, has Simba look at his reflection in the water and see his true nature. I like the Ramakrishna version. When the big tiger has the vegetarian goat-tiger eat some nice bloody tiger food, the goat-tiger gags. “And so,” Ramakirshna would reportedly say, “do all on true doctrine.” In any case, here is my bother’s version.
Life as a Duck
by Mike Foley
In the uppermost branches of a majestic tree, high above a northern forest, Mama Eagle kept watch over her brood. Her nest bustled with eaglets, all crying to be fed. Mama Eagle set off to find some breakfast.
Not long after she flapped away, the smallest eaglet, Tiny, tumbled from the nest. He bounced off branches, brushed past leaves and landed on the dark forest floor.
Tiny was not injured in the fall, but he was confused and frightened. He tried to climb back up the tree, but found he was not a good climber. The next morning as he lay cold, wet and hungry, he saw what looked somewhat like his kin – sort of. Maybe distant cousins.
These relatives were from the duck family and would often quack, fuss and carry on. Out of options, Tiny decided to follow them. Mama Duck looked at him oddly at first, but then took pity on the desperate little eaglet. She raised Tiny along with the rest of her ducklings.
Over time, Tiny forgot who he was and where he came from. He began to think of himself as a duck. But no matter how hard he tried, he was not a very good duck. When the other ducks would quack, he would let out a screech that would send the flock into a flurry. When they would fly in formation, he would go too fast and send foul and feathers hither and yon. When they would paddle happily around the pond, he would stand on shore alone because he was web-challenged and would sink like a rock.
Tiny began school with the ducklings, and it was clear that he was having developmental difficulties. To help him assimilate, he was enrolled in Remedial Quacking during the school year. His summer days were spent away at Paddling Camp with other “Special” ducks.
No matter how much he tried, Tiny just had no interest in getting ahead on the pond. He was fascinated by the mountain range nearby and spent his time daydreaming about the lands that lay beyond. This unusual behavior did not go unnoticed by his classmates and the ducklings would often have great fun at his expense. They called Tiny “birdbrain,” “freak,” “flake,” and worst of all, “odd duck.” He would often cry himself to sleep. The land of tears is indeed a lonely place.
By his late teens, he was desperate to find an answer. Not one to give up, he powered through all the self-help books: “Awakening your Inner Duck,” “The Total Quacker,” “The Power of Positive Paddling,” “How to win Friends and Influence Flocks,” “Quack, Pray and Paddle,” “Mallards are from Mars, Loons are from Venus,” and “Waddle like a Winner.”
Nothing worked. At his lowest, he even considered plastic surgery to modify his unusually large and pointy beak, razor sharp talons and ungainly wings. He knew he was different and would never change. No matter what he did, he could never relieve the ache in his heart.
One day Tiny was feeling especially lonely and blue, when a honk pierced the quiet on the pond. This was followed by hysterical quacking. Soaring overhead was a proud eagle. Like a lightning bolt, the eagle swooped down and cornered the flock of quaking quackers. This king of the sky boldly made his way through the huddled mass of fear and feathers, and went straight for Tiny. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, he dragged him over to the edge of the pond and thrust his face an inch from the surface. When our young feathery friend opened his eyes he saw two identical faces in the reflection. The world spun. In a gruff voice, the older eagle shook him and imparted these words: “You’re an eagle just like me, now act like it!” And with that, he flew off.
Rather than feeling afraid, Tiny, for the first time since he fell from the nest, felt happy. He was happy to be an eagle.
Tiny didn’t get all the other ducks together to tutor them on the superior ways of eagles. He didn’t try to convince, cajole or persuade the ducks to see life as a mystery with infinite possibilities. He didn’t try to find common ground or consensus, because there was none.
Nor did Tiny tell them that all their fussing, drama, and striving to get ahead on the duck pond was a complete waste of time. In his heart, he knew they had no interest in life’s real possibilities. At best, they might feign interest, but all they really ever wanted was a better spot on the pond. So he resolved that he would no longer fight to be a duck, or try to persuade ducks to be eagles.
In that moment, Tiny straightened up, raised his beak toward the heavens and spread his six-foot wingspan. He wasn’t Tiny any more. And then he flew away. If any ducks wanted to join him, that was fine, he would welcome them and do what he could to help.
But he would never try to be a duck again. That served no one, least of all himself. He knew who he was and his first priority would be to be true to his eagle nature. So Tiny No More soared high and far and never looked back, not even once. He was free.
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Jul 17 2009