Burung puyuh dan burung Manyar >> Edisi Indonesia
Folklore from Riau
A quail and a weaver bird were the best of friends. Though they were quite different—one with feet that scratched the ground and the other with wings that danced in the sky—they always looked out for each other. Every morning, they would meet at the edge of the meadow and spend the day searching for food together, chirping cheerfully and sharing whatever they found. When the sun began to set, they would part ways and return to their own nests—each tucked away in their own cozy corner of the forest.
One afternoon, dark clouds rolled in and rain began to pour. The quail and the weaver bird quickly took shelter beneath a large tree with broad, leafy branches. As they listened to the rhythmic sound of raindrops above them, they began to chat about their homes.
“My nest is wonderful,” chirped the weaver bird proudly. “It’s very clean and strong. I built it carefully by weaving together old leaves and twigs. It hangs from a high branch, safe from the rain and curious animals. I feel so cozy living there!”
The quail puffed up his feathers and replied, “Well, my nest is great too. It’s strong, and I don’t even have to spend time building it. I just look for a nice hollow in a fallen tree, and it becomes my home. Simple and safe!”
The weaver bird tilted her head and said, “But still, I think my nest is better. I worked hard to build it, and it’s so neat and beautiful.”
The quail frowned a little. “I don’t think so. My nest is better—it's on the ground, well-hidden, and I can move easily if I need to.”
Soon, their cheerful talk turned into a squabble. Each one insisted that their nest was the best. What began as a small disagreement slowly grew into a near argument, their feathers ruffling with pride.
To settle the matter once and for all, they came up with a plan.
“Let’s stay in my nest tonight,” suggested the weaver bird. “And tomorrow, we’ll try yours.”
“Alright,” said the quail with a nod. “Let’s see whose nest is truly the best.”
And so, the two friends shook wings on the deal, each secretly hoping the other would be proven wrong—but not knowing that the forest still had more to teach them. 🌿🐦
It was late in the afternoon when the two friends made their way to the weaver bird’s nest.
Perched high up on a swaying tree branch, the nest was tucked safely among the leaves. The weaver bird fluttered up with ease, her wings flapping gently as she reached her cozy home in no time at all.
The quail, however, stood at the base of the tree, staring up with wide eyes. He wasn’t a strong flier like his friend. “Hmm… this is higher than I thought,” he muttered. With small hops and determined claws, he began to climb the rough bark, using roots and branches like a ladder. It took a while, but at last, panting and tired, he reached the nest.
“Whew! I made it,” he said, shaking out his feathers.
The two friends settled in together, snuggling into the soft nest as the sky darkened. Just as their eyes began to close, thick raindrops started to fall. In no time, a heavy storm rolled in. Wind howled through the trees, and the branches swayed wildly.
The quail’s eyes shot open. “W-what’s happening?! The branch is moving too much! I’m going to fall!” he squawked, clutching the edge of the nest.
“Relax,” murmured the weaver bird sleepily. “This branch has held my nest through many storms. We’re perfectly safe.”
But the quail couldn’t relax. Every gust of wind made him grip the nest tighter. His feathers were puffed with fear, and he couldn't stop trembling.
He spent the whole night wide awake, heart pounding with every sway of the branch, wishing he had stayed on the ground. 🌧️🌬️🐦
The next morning, as the sun peeked through the clouds, the two friends went off to search for food like they always did. After a full day of pecking and foraging, they headed to the quail’s nest for the night.
When they arrived, the weaver bird looked around in surprise.
“You live here? Under this big broken tree?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Yes!” said the quail proudly. “It may not look fancy, but it’s safe and snug. Since the tree has already fallen, there’s no wind to shake it. You’ll see—it’s very cozy.”
The weaver bird fluttered down and nestled beside her friend on a soft bed of dry leaves. At first, everything was peaceful. But as night fell, dark clouds rolled in once more, and soon a heavy rain began to pour.
The weaver bird fluffed her feathers, trying to stay dry. But little by little, water seeped into the nest until both of them were getting wet.
“Brrr... I’m so cold,” chirped the weaver bird, shivering.
“Don’t worry,” said the quail gently. “The rain will pass. You’ll dry off soon. This is normal for me—I’m used to it.”
The weaver bird tried to rest, but she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The damp ground and dripping leaves made her feel uncomfortable all night.
Meanwhile, the quail was already snoring softly, curled up and quite content.
By morning, the weaver bird looked tired and a little grumpy.
“Your nest may be steady,” she said, “but it’s not very dry.”
The quail stretched and yawned. “True. But I slept like a rock!”
The two friends looked at each other… and then they both started laughing.
“We really are different,” said the weaver bird.
“Yes,” agreed the quail. “And that’s okay. My nest suits me, and your nest suits you.”
From that day on, they never argued about whose nest was better. Instead, they continued to help each other, sharing stories, food, and laughter—because friendship, they realized, was the best nest of all. 💛🏡🐦🐤🌦️
🌟 Moral of the Story:
Everyone has their own way of living. Just because something works well for one doesn’t mean it will suit another. Instead of arguing over who has the better life, it’s kinder and wiser to respect each other's differences. True friendship grows when we learn to understand and accept one another. 🕊️🐦🌧️
There are three kinds of weaver in Indonesia
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