The Drongo and the Magpie

In the countryside, a tiny, glossy black bird sometimes does something strange. It dives straight at a bird many times its size and chases it without letting go. Its shrill cry rings across the fields. The big crow and the proud hawk both flap away in front of this small bird.

That bird is the drongo, called chèo bẻo in Vietnamese.

People in the old days saw this and wondered why such a small bird was not afraid of the big ones, and how it dared. They wondered, too, why every other bird shunned the magpie and kept far away from it. The people of long ago told a story to answer.

This is a folk tale, gathered from the folk literature of Vietnam. It has no dates and no named places. It has only two kinds of birds and one thing that cannot be forgotten.

Long ago, when the world was new and the birds had only just appeared under the sky, the magpie was a big bird with a hard beak and sharp claws. It liked to torment the smaller birds. It wrecked nests that others were building, stole the food they had found, and drove their young off familiar branches. Wherever the magpie went, trouble followed. Birds cried out in alarm and whole flocks scattered in panic.

The drongo was small then, a light, glossy black body like a handful of feathers. It lived quietly and minded its own business. But one day, as the drongo was building its nest, the magpie flew in, said nothing, snatched the few straws the drongo had just gathered, and flapped away.

The drongo stood and watched. It was small, with a small body and small wings. But something inside it would not settle.

It flew after the magpie.

The chase began. The magpie was bigger and stronger, but the drongo was faster and more stubborn. It stayed on the magpie's tail over the rice fields, past a row of bamboo, and across the wide open land. Its cry was as sharp as a whistle, and it gave the magpie no chance to stop and rest. The magpie grew tired and frightened. It had to drop the stolen straw and fly straight on.

From that day, the drongo was no longer a bird that only looked after its own affairs. Whenever it saw the magpie, or any large bird coming to harm the small birds of the area, the drongo shot out to meet it. It did not care whether the enemy was big or small, a crow or a hawk. It gave its shrill cry and dived in. The small birds watched and breathed easier, because with the drongo around they knew they were protected.

The magpie was chased again and again, shamed in front of one flock after another, and little by little no bird wanted to keep it company. Everyone avoided the magpie, because the sight of it brought back the wrecked nests, the stolen food and the tormented young. The magpie lived alone. Its call rose up, and the world around it stayed silent. No one answered.

The drongo was unusual in one way. It was small, and often worn out after driving off a big bird. Even so, it never gave up the habit. Whenever it saw a large bird bullying a small one, it shot out, with nobody asking and nobody thanking it.

The people of old saw this and passed it down. The drongo did not act this way because it was strong. It acted this way because it could not sit still when it saw something wrong.

The real drongo is just like this. This small, glossy black bird truly fears neither the crow nor the hawk, and will attack even an eagle when it has to. Researchers who watch nature record that the drongo's defense of its territory and its own kind is among the most astonishing things in the world of small birds.

The magpie and the crow, in Vietnamese folk culture, are still birds that people keep their distance from. Their cries are often taken as a bad omen.

The tale is an old one. On any morning in the fields, a tiny drongo may be seen beating its wings after a big crow. That is its nature, and has been since the days of long ago. Small, yet unafraid. Weak, yet never backing down. And never sitting silent when something is wrong.