The Neighboring Families

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"Yes, I can't have you others here when I have a wife and children!" said the smallest.

"I'll have more wives and children than you!" said another.

"But I'm the oldest!" said a third. Then they all got into a fight; they flapped their wings and pecked at each other, and - bumps! - one after another popped out of the nest! There they lay, full of anger; they held their heads to one side and blinked their upturned eyes; that was their way of sulking.

They could fly a little, and so they practiced some more. And finally they agreed that in order to recognize each other when they met in the world, they would say "twit!" and scrape three times with the left leg.

The youngest sparrow, who remained in the nest, puffed himself up as big as he could, for he was now the owner, but that did not last long. During the night, fire gleamed through the windows of the farmhouse; the flames burst forth from under the roof, and the dry straw went up in a blaze. The whole house burned, and with it the little sparrow and his nest; however, the young couple luckily escaped.

When the sun was up next morning, and everything seemed so refreshed, as after a night's gentle sleep, there was nothing left of the farmhouse except some black, charred beams leaning against the chimney which was its own master now. The smoke still rose from the ground, but the whole rose tree stood fresh and blooming, with every bough mirrored in the calm water.

"My, how pretty those roses are there in front of the burnt-down house!" said a man, who came by. "It's the most charming little picture! I must have it!" And the man took from his pocket a little book with white leaves and a pencil, for he was an artist, and he sketched the smoking ground, the charred beams, and the chimney that leaned more and more to one side; but first of all, the big, blooming rose tree, which was certainly beautiful, and was, of course, the reason the picture was drawn.

Later that day two of the sparrows who had been born there came by.