The Crow and the Golden Trees

The Crow and the Golden Trees

Far, far away, where the Sun rises each morning from the edge of the earth, lies a land that Bagobo storytellers spoke of only in the evenings, when the sky had turned purple and the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

They say the Sun shines so fiercely in that land that ordinary trees struggle to bear the midday heat. Once, there were thick groves, green crowns rustled, and birds hid in the shade. But as the years passed, the heat grew stronger. Leaves dried, branches lost their green, and at last only two wonderful trees remained standing on the bright plain.

They were no ordinary trees.

Their trunks shone like gold, and their leaves shimmered like thin plates of silver. When the wind touched their crowns, the leaves chimed softly:

Ting-a-ling… ting-a-ling…

From far away, it seemed as if the Sun itself had planted them on earth to guard the world’s eastern edge.

News of the golden trees quickly spread among the birds.

“I’ll fly there first!” said a little bright-colored bird. “I want to see the silver leaves up close.”

She flew to the crown, landed on a branch—and at once smelled the sharp scent of resin. Her head began to spin, and her wings felt heavy.

“Oh, this place isn’t for me!” she chirped, and quickly flew away.

A large forest bird tried next.

“I’m stronger,” he bragged. “Some resin won’t scare me.”

But as soon as he touched the golden trunk, his nose began to itch and his eyes began to sting. He had to retreat just as quickly.

One bird after another came to visit. Some circled above the trees and turned back. Others landed on the silver leaves for just a moment, then took off again. The magic resin protected the trees and did not let just anyone stay on their branches for long.

Then one day, a Crow arrived.

She did not rush straight to the trees. First she circled them from a distance. Then she landed on a rock and watched for a long time.

“Beautiful,” she said. “But when a place is unfamiliar, you should look carefully first.”

She walked closer, pecked at the ground, then stepped away again. Next she flew to a low branch and touched it lightly with one foot.

Nothing happened.

Crow landed more carefully.

The silver leaves chimed above her, the golden bark gleamed in the sunlight, and the sharp scent of resin rose into the air. But Crow was not frightened or weakened. She sat calmly, as if she had always known these trees.

“Caw!” she called. “So nature gives every creature its own gift.”

From then on, Crow could visit the golden trees, rest on their high branches, and watch the land waking far below.

The other birds were no longer jealous of her.

“This place suits you,” they said. “We prefer green trees, cool crowns, and familiar forests.”

“And that is good, too,” Crow replied. “If everyone liked the same thing, the world would be very crowded.”

Much time passed. One day, a traveler came to the eastern land. In the old tale, his name was Malaki T’oluk Waig. He carried a great shield that flashed brightly in the Sun.

When he saw the golden trees, the traveler stopped.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he whispered.

Crow sat high above him.

“Caw! Don’t rush,” she warned. “These trees are unusual.”

The traveler did not break off branches or touch the silver leaves with his bare hands. He watched for a long time, then carefully gathered only a little of the resin that had already seeped from the bark.

“This is enough,” he said. “When something is rare, you should not take every last drop.”

Then he went on his way.

The golden trees remained standing where the Sun rises. According to the old tale, their trunks still shine like gold, their leaves ring out like silver bells, and sometimes a black shape can be seen high in the crown.

It is Crow. She does not think she is better than the other birds. She simply knows that everyone has a place where their own gift is especially useful.

And when her loud “Caw!” rings over the forest, we can remember the old story of two golden trees at the edge of the world—and that strength comes in many forms, while care and respect for nature are always important.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨