How the king of birds was chosen: and other Mayan folk tales

by Anne LaBastille

Long before Columbus "discovered" the New World, three great Native races--Maya, Aztec and Inca--inhabited Central America. Today, the Mayas still live in the region, where for centuries they have handed down legends about birds and other animals. Wildlife ecologist Anne LaBastille first heard some of these tales from a native Yucatecan and naturalist named Ramon Castillo Perez, who in turn heard them in remote villages. On these pages, LaBastille shares five such stories, adapted from her book Birds of the Mayas. The tales probably date back to pre-Columbian times, revealing an ancient art of birdwatching and appreciation.

Long ago, in Maya Land, flowers, birds, trees, butterflies and mammals appeared in other colors and shapes than those of today. Halach-Uinic, the Great Spirit, guarded over all the Maya World. His will was law. One day, he grew tired of the constant chatter and fighting among the birds. At a meeting in the center of the forest, he announced that the birds must choose a king to keep peace.

Of course, each bird thought it possessed the best qualifications. Col-pol-che, the cardinal, sang, "Look at me. No one else is bright red and so beautiful. All the birds admire me. I should be king." And he strutted in front of the impressed bird audience, fluttering his wings and raising his crest.

X-col-col-chek, the tropical mockingbird, trilled out, "I'm the only bird with such a lovely voice. Everyone listens to me." Enlarging his throat, X-col gave a short performance of enchanting and complicated melodies. This was a tremendous sensation among the birds and went far in convincing them that the mockingbird should be king.

Then the wild turkey, Cutz, strode into the circle and gobbled, "There's no doubt that I should be king because I'm the biggest and strongest bird. With my size and strength, I can stop fights and also defend any bird. You need a powerful king. I'm the one!"

And so, throughout the day, various birds displayed their qualities. The only one that kept quiet was Kukul, the quetzal. This bird was very ambitious and proud. He had elegant manners and a graceful body, but his plumage was shabby. Kukul thought it would be impossible to be chosen as king while he was dressed so poorly.

After thinking carefully, he flew over to his friend, Xtuntun-kinil, the roadrunner. "I want to make you a proposition, my dear friend," he said. "Your feathers are as handsome as any bird's here, but you are too busy with your work as messenger of the roads to become king. Also, I don't think you possess quite the flair and sophistication that is necessary for this job. I'm afraid I can't loan these qualities to you, but you could loan me your feathers just for this occasion. After I'm elected king, I'll share the wealth and honors with you."

It was a tempting offer, yet the road-runner did not feel too eager to part with his plumage. Kukul kept persuading and assuring Xtuntun of his integrity and fine intentions. He painted bright visions of the riches to come. At last, he convinced his trusting friend.

One by one, the feathers disappeared from Xtuntun's body and the clever quetzal adjusted them to his own. Within minutes, they had multiplied and grown so that the ambitious bird was attired in the most splendid costume imaginable. Kukul's tail hung in a sweeping curve of jade green plumes. His body shimmered with soft, iridescent hues of blue and green like the Maya sky and jungle. His breast blazed with the colors of a tropical sunset. And his beak turned yellow as corn.

Swinging his exquisite 4-foot tail in an arc, the bold bird promenaded into the circle where the birds of Maya Land were congregated. His entrance caused a hush. Then cries of, "Bravo," "Hurrah," "Oh" and "Ah" filled the forest.

Halach-Uinic was very pleased with the miraculous change from the quiet, drab bird to this radiant, proud creature before him. Calling the audience to order, the Great Spirit declared, "I name the quetzal to be king of the birds." A loud applause followed this announcement and each bird hopped over to the quetzal with congratulations. Finally, they all flew home and left Kukul to begin his new duties. He found himself extremely busy, so he never had time to return the borrowed feathers. In fact, he forgot all about his promise to the roadrunner.

One day, a group of birds noticed that the roadrunner had not appeared in several days. In fact, no one had seen him since the great election. They began to suspect Kukul of some trick, so they organized a search. Deep in the forest behind a bush, they found Xtuntun-kinil, naked, trembling with cold and almost dead of hunger. Quickly, the birds gave him some balche (honey drink) to help him recover.

When he was able, the roadrunner told them of the cruel deception played by the quetzal. He kept saying, "Puhuy? Puhuy?" which means "Where is he? Where is he?" in the Maya language. All the birds felt sorry for the roadrunner and decided each should donate a few feathers to cover him. The mockingbird even sang a jolly song to raise the courage of the embarrassed bird.

That is why today the roadrunner's feathers are so oddly colored and varied in pattern, and why he always watches the Maya roads. He is still searching for the quetzal that took away his plumage and still running anxiously in front of travelers asking, "Puhuy? Puhuy?"

RELATED ARTICLE: How the Mockingbird Became the Best Singer

When x-col-col-chek, the mockingbird, was young, her family was very poor, and she could only dress in dingy feathers. Since she was hatched, however, X-col had displayed a magnificent voice. She wanted to take singing lessons but could not afford them.

The mockingbird was fortunate to obtain work with a rich and noble family of cardinals. That winter, a famous singing professor, Dr. Xcau, the melodious blackbird, came to Maya Land. The father cardinal immediately imagined that his daughter, Col-pol-che, could become a fine singer. She was lazy, vain and hated to study. But by promising her many fine gifts, the father convinced her to try singing lessons.

When Col-pol-che went with Dr. Xcau to a quiet part of the woods to begin her music course, X-col followed and hid in the bushes to listen and learn. Then she raced back to finish her chores. For weeks, the professor tried to make the girl cardinal sing sweetly, but without success. He soon realized she had neither the voice nor the ambition. He was afraid to tell her wealthy father after such a long time, having accepted a lot of money. So, he finally flew far away and forgot the whole affair.

Meanwhile, X-col had been practicing. One morning, Col-pol-che happened to hear her and was very surprised at her little maid's ability. That same day, the father cardinal decided his daughter should give a concert for their friends. The indolent girl was terrified, yet she dared not tell her parents that she couldn't sing. She thought of the mockingbird's lovely voice and decided to ask her for help.

The two birds asked Colonte, the woodpecker, to bore a hole into the tree trunk where Col-pol-che would perch. Then the mockingbird would hide inside. While Col-pol-che pretended to be singing, the real voice would come from X-col within.

On the day of the concert, all the nobles, singers, artists and musicians among the birds came. Col-pol-che hopped out on a limb of the purple-flowering tree chosen by her father, bowed to the audience and opened her bill. The most exquisite voice ever heard in the Maya World came pouring out and echoed through the woods. The birds in the audience flapped their wings and cried for curtain call after curtain call.

The father, however, was not applauding He had discovered the truth just before the concert began when he saw X-col crawl into the little hole. When the applause ended and the cardinal finished many bows, her father flew up beside her and asked for silence. He hopped over to the hole and called the mockingbird to come out.

The small, colorless bird was trembling with fright, but Col-pol-che's father gently led her to a perch in front of the entire audience. Then he explained that his daughter had tricked everyone, including him. "It was really this shy little `nightingale' who sang the whole time," he announced.