The Brave Little Parrot

SUNNAHSTORIES · SUITABLE FOR AGES 4 TO 10

Deep in the heart of an ancient forest, where tall cedar trees brushed against the sky, lived a little emerald parrot named Nura. She had bright eyes and a cheerful song. She spent her days sharing seeds with smaller birds and reminding the creatures of the wood to give thanks for the gentle morning rain.

One summer afternoon, lightning struck the dry brush, and fire swept through the trees. Flames leaped from branch to branch, crackling furiously. The mighty elephants trumpeted in fear and ran for the river, while the swift deer bounded away into the rocky hills, shouting, "Run, run! The forest is lost!"

But high in the burning branches, Nura heard tiny voices. Baby birds were still in their nests, and the little creatures of the forest floor had nowhere to go.

Nura did not flee. "Bismillah," she whispered (In the name of Allah), and she flew straight to the cool river. She plunged beneath the water until her feathers were soaked, then flew back over the raging flames. Hovering over the roaring blaze, she shook her tiny wings, letting three small drops of water fall into the fire.

Then she did it again. And again. And again. Her feathers grew singed. Her wings grew heavy.

A hawk soaring high above cried out, "Foolish parrot! What do your three drops of water matter against an entire burning mountain?"

Nura turned, her eyes determined. "I cannot put out the whole fire," she said. "But I can carry water. Allah sees every drop, even the smallest one." And she flew back to the river.

From the riverbank, old Hamid the elephant watched her go back and forth, back and forth. "If a bird that small will not give up," he said slowly, "then neither will I." He filled his trunk with river water and sprayed it over the trees nearest the nests.

One by one, the others came back. The elephants sprayed. The deer stamped out the sparks in the grass. The beavers dragged wet branches across the path of the flames. Together they kept the fire away from the nests until it burned out at the edge of the river.

When the smoke cleared, the baby birds were safe. The forest was black in places, but by spring, green shoots pushed up through the ash. Nura sang again from the cedar tops, and every creature in the wood knew her song.

"Alhamdulillah," she said (All praise is for Allah). "We each carried a little, and a little was enough."

We are never asked to fix the whole world on our own. We are asked to carry the drops of good Allah has put in our hands, and to carry them sincerely.