The Day Fairness Was Banned

When Eagle the Loud tries to hoard the sky, fearing the rise of smaller wings, the forest unites in peaceful defiance. Together, they show that real strength isn’t ruling alone—but lifting all wings to fly as one.

Ross Boulton

In a forest once buzzing with balance and cheer,

A troubling wind whispered, “No fairness this year.”

High on a crag, with a crown plaited fine,

Eagle the Loud screeched, “This forest is mine!”

But why the new wrath? His heart brimmed with dread—

He’d seen small birds learning trades overhead.

“If saplings grow tall, they’ll shadow my throne!

I earned these strong wings, I will guard what I own!”

“No more talk of equity—that talk makes me weak!

Fly harder or fade, if the high peaks you seek!”

Down fluttered his talons; the old signs were torn,

“ALL BIRDS BELONG” replaced by a banner of scorn:

MIGHT MAKES RIGHT—ONLY STRONG IN THE SKY!

Enter Jay‑Dee the Parrot‑Crow

Jay‑Dee arrived waving a scroll in one claw,

A hype‑bird by nature, yet quick with a flaw:

“No diversity! No… um… desserts for frogs?”

He tripped on a root and careened into logs.

“Was it equity or egg‑count decree?

I thought he said ‘turnip’—or maybe just ‘gee?’”

The frogs all blinked wide, the chipmunks just stared;

Confusion now reigned where once courage had flared.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” he cawed with a cough.

He cried, “DEI means Ducks Eating Troughs!” and flew off.

Eagle still kept him—chaos, you see,

Muddled minds rarely mutiny.

Pip the Owl Remembers

Deep in the glade where the moon‑mushrooms glow,

Clerk Pip the young Owl recalled long ago:

"Once I tried flying to join in the games—

They hooted, ‘Owls watch; stay out of our lanes.’

I wept in my hollow, wings bent like a bow:

From pain grew a spark—and I swore it would grow."

With scrolls under wing and eyes bright as dew,

She rallied the woodland: "This edict is skewed!

If only one ladder is built for his claws,

The rest of us stumble while he shouts applause.

Fairness is more than a ladder at all—

It’s adding more rungs so that each bird won’t fall!"

Gathering of the Wings

Maple the Goose, both kind‑heart and wise,

Honked, “Let us convene beneath Grandmother Pine!

”Whimsy the Squirrel scribbled notes in a rush:"

This isn’t just mean—it breaks forest hush!"

Willow the Swan, serene in the shade,

Whispered, "True strength is the bridges we’ve made.

Where distant ducklings paddle side by side,

No voice is too quiet, no dream must hide."

A wrinkled old Turtle crept close to the roar:

"I once dreamt of climbing, of tasting sky’s core,

But ladders too steep pushed my wishes away—

Years roll like pebbles when hope cannot stay."

Even the Buzzards, who once perched in woe,

Felt famine of thermals where dead breezes blow:

"Even carrion’s scarce under Eagle’s new law—

No scraps left to scavenge, no warm updraft draw."

Thus ants and the spiders, badgers and dogs,

Joined beetles and ferrets, and yes, all the frogs.

The Feather of Fairness

From the pouch of an Elder Crane, brittle yet bright,

Came a sky‑silver plume, shed in moon‑blessed night.

It shimmered in daylight, it glimmered at dusk—

A promise of justice, of courage, of trust.

They passed it in circles; each beak felt its gleam.

"A single soft feather," they vowed, "builds the dream:

One quill can’t lift all—but when feathers unite,

A mighty new wing takes the whole forest to flight."

Jay‑Dee’s Awakening

Jay‑Dee returned, feathers crooked and blue;

He froze when he witnessed the turtle’s soft rue.

“My medals are tangling—Clink‑clatter!”he blurted in fright—

Then swallowed his pride in the gathering light.

"Was I part of this hurt? I just echoed and squawked…

Repeating those words was my blindest walk.

I thought I was helping, but I wasn’t awake—

Now I can help mend the mistakes I helped make."

Pip met him gently, no talon so cold.

She opened a wing while the silver plume glowed:

"You don’t have to get every slogan exact—

Just add sturdy rungs where the ladders once lacked."

Peaceful Resistance

They ringed Eagle’s eyrie with feathers and song,

A choir of species who'd once felt they didn’t belong.

Skunks raised their tails—but with blossoms, not spray;

Ants formed a ramp for the Turtle that day.

Buzzards outstretched their wide shadowed fans—

No storm of raw power could shatter such plans.

Eagle looked down from his perilous throne;

The chorus below was a power unknown.

He saw in the Feather, still bright though so small,

A strength built together could out‑fly them all.

His crown made of twine came apart in the breeze.

He lifted both wings and he trembled at knees:

"Perhaps," he admitted, "my fear made me blind—

A forest flies higher when all wings align."

With Pip by his side and Jay‑Dee in tow,

He helped plant new ladders where short branches grow.

And so in that forest, when dawn touched the dew,

No fledgling felt ground‑bound—they all freely flew.

🌟 The Moral

When fairness is banned, draw it closer instead.

Ask why when one bird tries to shrink common spread.

A single soft feather can lift the skies—

For forests soar highest when every wing flies.