Occasionally the prince would come by and show Simon to a visitor. Desperate for company, Simon would snap his beak and do tricks, anything to keep the visitors a little longer.
The prince was not amused. He called Simon a vain creature and made a point of not staying long. His visits grew fewer, then stopped altogether.
Days went by without Simon seeing anyone.
At length the prince decided that keeping Simon was more trouble than it was worth. He came to Simon's cage and opened the door.
"Come out," said the prince. "No one is interested in looking at you anymore. You've become common. It's time for you to go."
An astonished Simon could hardly believe his ears. He thought the prince was simply playing a trick on him, and refused to leave. The prince had Simon yanked from the cage and unceremoniously thrown out of the palace—from the back door.
For the first time in two years, Simon was free. He was elated—at first. His moment of joy was brief. As he stood against the palace door, trying to think of what to do, a group of children found him. They made fun of him, called him names.
In a fury Simon bent down, picked up a stone, and threw it. His arm was weak. The stone fell short. The children laughed and mocked him all the more.
Simon ran away. As the day wore on, Simon began to feel a pain in his stomach that he knew was hunger. With anger and shock, he realized that the prince had put him out without food or money. He was homeless. With nothing to eat, he began to wish he were back in his safe cage.
As he walked along in search of food, he passed an open-air café. Stomach growling, he stopped and watched people eat.
Someone complained about his staring. The manager came out and tried to shoo him away.
"I only want something to eat," Simon begged.
"Do you think you get food for nothing?" replied the manager. "One has to work for it. Or is your brain as small as most birds'?"
"Please!" cried Simon. "It's just that I've not worked in an ordinary way. I've been on exhibition for the prince. I'm willing to do anything for food."
"Ah," said the manager. "You've led a soft life. But I have a kind heart. I'll make you an offer. With that long beak of yours, you should be good at picking up bits the way your fellow birds do. People are always leaving crumbs where they eat. Crumbs attract rats, and I hate rats. You can pick up the crumbs. My place will be clean, and you'll get something to eat."
Simon was revolted by the suggestion. He started to turn away.
"Where else are you going to get food?" asked the manager.
Simon, hearing his stomach growl, agreed to take the job.
The manager led Simon into the restaurant through the back way. He gave him a gray apron and placed a silly cap on his head. "You might as well amuse my patrons," he said. He pushed Simon out onto the floor and told him to get busy. "Don't assume you'll have this job forever," he warned. "If you don't work hard, you'll be gone!"
At first Simon hung back against the walls of the restaurant, pecking only at crumbs he found there. The bits of food whetted his appetite. He reached for more and more. The patrons were greatly amused. They began to throw food at him. Simon, unable to resist, gobbled greedily. People laughed.
Within a short time, Simon, in order to encourage the patrons and keep his job, began to perform tricks, jokes, and songs he had heard at the banquet tables of the prince.
This went over well—for a time. But before long the patrons, most of whom came to the café on a regular basis, grew annoyed. They grew tired of the same jokes, the same songs. They began to complain to the manager that the bird-man was a distraction. After a few complaints, Simon was told to leave.
In despair Simon left. Unable to think of any other place to go, he decided to return to his parents and beg for mercy.
For a week Simon traveled. He went through all the cities and towns he had passed on his way to the palace. He traveled by night so he would not be seen. Only when he grew hungry would he emerge into the light of day to do tricks on street corners for bits of bread.
When he came to the edge of his own village, he grew fearful. Ashamed to show himself, he waited until the day grew dark. When darkness came, he made his way through back alleys to his parents' house. He knocked on the door, timidly.
His mother opened the door. His father stood behind her. When they saw the strange creature, they were taken aback.
"May we help you?" his mother asked.
"I am your son, Simon."
The two old people looked at the creature on the doorstep with disbelief. Then they became angry.
"Our Simon," said his father, "was the most handsome of young men. He would dress in nothing but the best. But you, strange creature, your feathers are dirty, your clothing is ragged."
"Anyway," added his mother, "Simon would not come here. This house wasn't good enough for him. He went off to make his fortune, and no doubt has become rich and powerful. No, Simon wouldn't come back here."
"In fact," his father added, "I suspect that he sent you here to mock us!"
So saying, his parents slammed the door shut.
Heartbroken and exhausted, Simon made his way by cover of night into the forest. When he found a soft place beneath a tree, he lay down. He began to wish that he might never rise again.
Just as he was falling asleep, he heard the baying of hunting dogs. Instantly he remembered how he had been captured. He had not the slightest desire to be caught again.
To protect himself, he dashed deeper into the wood, running from the sound. Alas, no matter where he ran, the baying grew louder. First it was on one side of him, then on the other. He was surrounded.
Frantic, Simon plunged about in search of an escape. Suddenly he caught sight of a glimmer of gold springing among the leaves.
He ran forward. There, flitting from branch to branch, was the Golden Bird. In the moonlight he saw her just as he had seen her before—wings aglitter, black crown upon her head, red feet, blue beak sharp and precise.
Simon stood still, amazed to see the bird alive. Had he not killed her? As he was about to call out to her, he saw a hunter break from a thicket. The hunter raised his gun to his shoulder and aimed right at the Golden Bird.
Simon leaped forward. The bullet intended for the Golden Bird struck him. He fell.
The hunter, seeing a human form fall and fearing he had killed a man, turned and fled.
As Simon lay upon the ground dying, the forest became utterly still. He opened his eyes and looked up. The trees were covered with birds, all of which were staring at him. Among them was the Golden Bird. Simon gazed at her. "Is it really you?" he managed to ask. "The one I thought I killed?"
The Golden Bird fluttered down by his side. "Yes, it's me," she replied softly. "And you, are you the one whom all the world was to notice?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"And did the whole world take notice?"
After a moment Simon said, "Yes, but there was one who never noticed the world."
"Who was that?"
"Me," said Simon, and he closed his eyes.
In the forest nothing moved.
The Golden Bird swept her wings over Simon's body. As she did, Simon was again transformed. He became a bird—a complete bird—of great majesty. With another sweep of her wings, the Golden Bird brought Simon back to life.
The Golden Bird leaped into the air. And Simon followed, his great wings beating the dark night, flying by her side, free and whole at last.
About the Author
AVI has written many acclaimed novels for middle grade and teen readers, including his Newbery Medal–winning Crispin: The Cross of Lead and his two Newbery Honor books, Nothing But the Truth: A Documentary Novel and The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle. He lives in Denver, Colorado.
Avi, Strange Happenings: Five Tales of Transformation
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