Birds

EuelpidesStraight ahead, you say? Where that tree is?

PeisetaerusOh, go burst! And now this one’s cawing back again.

EuelpidesWhy are we wandering up and down like this, you idiot? We’ll be done for, trudging back and forth on this road for nothing.

PeisetaerusTo think that I, poor fool, took a crow’s word for it and walked around in circles for more than a hundred miles!

EuelpidesAnd I, poor devil, took a jackdaw’s word for it and wore the nails right off my toes.

PeisetaerusI don’t even know where on earth we are anymore.

EuelpidesCould you find your way back home from here?

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, not even Execestides could, from here.note

EuelpidesOh no.

PeisetaerusYou go along this road, my friend.

EuelpidesThat crazy Philocrates, the bird-dealer in the market, has really done us dirty. He told us these two would show us the way to Tereus, the hoopoe, the one who became a bird from among the birds. And he sold us this one, Tharreleides’ son the jackdaw, for an obol, and that one for three. And it turns out all they know how to do is bite. And now what are you gaping at? Is there anywhere further down the rocks you still want to take us? There’s no road here.note

PeisetaerusNo, by Zeus, there isn’t a path here anywhere.

EuelpidesAnd the crow—doesn’t she say anything about the way?

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, she’s not cawing the same thing she was before.

EuelpidesSo what is she saying about the way?

PeisetaerusWhat else but that she’s going to gnaw my fingers off?

EuelpidesIsn’t it awful? Here we are, dying to go to the crows, all packed and ready, and then we can’t find the way! You see, gentlemen of the audience, we’re suffering from the opposite disease to Sacas. He isn’t a citizen and he forces his way in; while we, respected in tribe and clan, citizens among citizens, with nobody shooing us off, have taken flight from our country on both feet. Not that we hate the city itself—as if it weren’t great by nature, and blessed, and open to absolutely everyone… to pay fines in.note

PeisetaerusHey!

EuelpidesWhat is it?

PeisetaerusMy crow’s been pointing up at something for a while now.

EuelpidesAnd this jackdaw here is gaping upward as if he’s showing me something. There must be birds here, no question. We’ll find out soon enough if we make some noise.

PeisetaerusYou know what to do? Kick the rock with your leg.

EuelpidesAnd you bang it with your head, so the noise is twice as loud.

PeisetaerusWell, pick up a stone and knock.

EuelpidesSure, if you like. Boy! Boy!

PeisetaerusWhat are you saying, you? Calling the hoopoe “boy”? Instead of “boy,” shouldn’t you be calling “Epopoi”?

EuelpidesEpopoi! You’re going to make me knock all over again! Epopoi!

Hoopoe’s ServantWho are these two? Who’s that shouting for the master?

EuelpidesApollo, Averter of Evil, what a gaping beak!

Hoopoe’s ServantOh no, poor me—these two are bird-catchers!

EuelpidesWhat a horrible thing to say! Couldn’t you put it more nicely?

Hoopoe’s ServantYou’re both dead.

EuelpidesBut we’re not humans.

Hoopoe’s ServantWhat are you, then?

EuelpidesMe? I’m a Scaredy-Bird, a Libyan species.

Hoopoe’s ServantNonsense.

EuelpidesWell then, ask what’s at my feet.

Hoopoe’s ServantAnd this one—what bird is he? Won’t you tell me?

PeisetaerusMe? I’m a Shat-Myself—a pheasant.note

EuelpidesBut you—what kind of creature are you, for the gods’ sake?

Hoopoe’s ServantMe? I’m a slave bird.

EuelpidesBeaten by some rooster, were you?

Hoopoe’s ServantNo—when my master became a hoopoe, he prayed that I’d become a bird too, so he’d have someone to wait on him.

EuelpidesWhat, a bird needs a servant?

Hoopoe’s ServantThis one does, since I suppose he was a man once. Sometimes he’s dying for some Phaleron anchovies: I grab the dish and run for anchovies. Or he fancies pea soup, and that needs a ladle and a pot: I run for the ladle.

EuelpidesA running bird—a trochilus, this one! You know what you should do, Runner? Call your master for us.note

Hoopoe’s ServantBut, by Zeus, he’s only just dropped off, after a meal of myrtle berries and a few gnats.

EuelpidesWake him up anyway.

Hoopoe’s ServantI know perfectly well he’ll be annoyed, but I’ll wake him for your sake.

PeisetaerusDamn you to hell, you scared me to death!

EuelpidesOh no, damn it, my jackdaw’s gone too—fright!

PeisetaerusYou absolute coward of a creature, you were so scared you let go of the jackdaw?

EuelpidesTell me, didn’t you let go of the crow when you fell over?

PeisetaerusNo, by Zeus, not me.

EuelpidesThen where is she?

PeisetaerusShe flew away.

EuelpidesSo you didn’t let her go! My good man, how brave you are.

HoopoeOpen up the woods, so I may come forth at last.

EuelpidesHeracles! What on earth is this creature? What plumage! And what’s the idea of the triple crest?

HoopoeWho are they who seek me?

EuelpidesLooks like the twelve gods have done you over.

HoopoeYou’re not mocking me, are you, at the sight of my plumage? I was once, strangers, a man.

EuelpidesWe’re not laughing at you.

HoopoeAt what, then?

EuelpidesIt’s your beak we find funny.

HoopoeThat’s exactly how Sophocles mangles me, Tereus, in his tragedies.note

EuelpidesYou’re Tereus? So are you a bird, or a peacock?

HoopoeA bird, that’s me.

EuelpidesThen where are your feathers?

HoopoeThey’ve fallen out.

EuelpidesFrom some disease?

HoopoeNo—all we birds molt over the winter, and then we grow new ones. But tell me, who are you two?

EuelpidesUs? Mortals.

HoopoeOf what people?

EuelpidesFrom where the beautiful warships come.

HoopoeJurymen, then?

EuelpidesNo, the other sort: jury-dodgers.note

HoopoeDoes that seed get sown there?

EuelpidesIf you hunt out in the countryside, you might find a little.

HoopoeAnd what do you two want, coming here?

EuelpidesWe want to talk with you.

HoopoeAbout what?

EuelpidesBecause first of all you were a man once, like us; and you owed money once, like us; and you loved not paying it back, like us. Then you changed into the nature of a bird, and flew all around over land and sea, and you know everything a man knows and everything a bird knows. So that’s why we’ve come to you here as suppliants: to ask if you could tell us of some city that’s nice and woolly, like a soft blanket to curl up in.

HoopoeSo you’re looking for a city greater than that of the Cranaans?note

EuelpidesNot greater at all—just one that suits us better.

HoopoeClearly you’re after an aristocracy.

EuelpidesMe? Not in the least. I can’t stand Scellias’ son.note

HoopoeThen what sort of city would you most like to live in?

EuelpidesOne where the biggest troubles were like this: a friend comes to my door first thing in the morning and says, “By Olympian Zeus, make sure you come over to my place, you and the kids, nice and early, all freshly bathed—I’m giving a wedding feast. Don’t you dare do anything else. If you do, don’t come to me when I’m in trouble!”

HoopoeBy Zeus, you certainly love your hardships! And what about you?

PeisetaerusI love the same sort of thing.

HoopoeSuch as?

PeisetaerusWhere the father of a pretty boy bumps into me and complains as if I’d done him wrong: “A fine way to treat me, Stilbonides! You met my son coming back from the gym, fresh from his bath, and you didn’t kiss him, didn’t speak to him, didn’t give him a hug, didn’t feel his balls—and you an old friend of the family!”

HoopoeYou poor little wretch, what troubles you’re in love with! Well, there is a happy city of the kind you two describe, on the Red Sea.

EuelpidesOh no, not by the sea, please—where the Salaminia will pop up one morning with a summons-server on board! Can you tell us of a Greek city?note

HoopoeWhy don’t you two go and settle in Lepreus, in Elis?

EuelpidesBecause, by the gods, without ever having seen it I loathe Lepreus—thanks to Melanthius.note

HoopoeWell, there are the other Opuntians, in Locris. That’s where you should live.

EuelpidesBut I wouldn’t become an Opuntius for a talent of gold. Anyway, what’s this life with the birds like? You know it inside out.note

HoopoeIt’s not a bad way to pass the time. For a start, you have to live without a purse.

EuelpidesWell, that takes a lot of the fakery out of life.

HoopoeAnd we feed in gardens on white sesame, myrtle berries, poppy and mint.

EuelpidesSo you live the life of bridegrooms!note

HoopoeTrust you in what?

PeisetaerusIn what? First, stop flying around everywhere with your beaks hanging open. It’s a disgraceful way to behave. For instance, back home, if you ask about the flighty types, “Who’s that bird?,” Teleas will tell you: “That man? A bird—unstable, flighty, untraceable, never staying put anywhere.”note

HoopoeBy Dionysus, that’s a fair criticism. So what should we do?

PeisetaerusFound a single city.

HoopoeAnd what sort of city could we birds found?

PeisetaerusReally? What a stupid thing to say! Look down.

HoopoeThere, I’m looking.

PeisetaerusNow look up.

HoopoeI’m looking.

PeisetaerusTurn your neck around.

HoopoeBy Zeus, a fine reward I’ll get, if I end up with my neck twisted!

PeisetaerusDid you see anything?

HoopoeThe clouds and the sky.

PeisetaerusWell, isn’t that the birds’ pole?

HoopoePole? What do you mean?

PeisetaerusTheir place, you might say. And because it revolves, and everything passes through it, it’s called the “pole” for now. But once you settle it and wall it in, instead of a “pole” it’ll be called a “polis”—a city. Then you’ll rule over humans as if they were locusts, and kill the gods with a Melian famine.note

HoopoeHow?

PeisetaerusThe air is in between earth and heaven, surely. So, just as we, when we want to go to Delphi, have to ask the Boeotians for right of passage, in the same way, when humans sacrifice to the gods, unless the gods pay you tribute, you won’t let the savor of the thighbones pass through.

HoopoeHurray! Hurray! By earth, by snares, by clouds, by nets, I’ve never heard a cleverer idea! So I’ll found the city with you—if the other birds agree.

PeisetaerusThen who’s going to explain the plan to them?

HoopoeYou. They couldn’t speak Greek before, but I taught them language, living with them all this time.

PeisetaerusSo how would you call them together?

HoopoeEasily. I’ll step right into this thicket here, wake up my nightingale, and we’ll call them. If they hear our voices, they’ll come running.

PeisetaerusDearest of birds, don’t just stand there! Please, I beg you, go into the thicket as fast as you can and wake the nightingale.

PeisetaerusKing Zeus, what a voice that little bird has! She’s poured honey over the whole thicket.

EuelpidesHey!

PeisetaerusWhat is it? Will you be quiet?

EuelpidesWhy?

PeisetaerusThe hoopoe’s getting ready to sing again.

ChorusTorotorotorotorotix.
Kikkabau kikkabau.
Torotorotorotorolililix.

PeisetaerusCan you see any bird?

EuelpidesBy Apollo, I can’t—and I’ve been gaping at the sky, looking.

PeisetaerusSo it seems the hoopoe went into the thicket and called away for nothing, imitating a plover.

A BirdTorotix torotix.

PeisetaerusMy good man, look, here’s one—a bird’s actually coming!

EuelpidesBy Zeus, a bird all right. What on earth is it? Not a peacock, surely?

PeisetaerusHe’ll tell us himself. What bird is this?

HoopoeThis one isn’t one of the common ones you see all the time—he’s a marsh bird.

EuelpidesWow, he’s beautiful—and flame red!

HoopoeNaturally. That’s why he’s called a flamingo.

EuelpidesHey, you, I’m talking to you!

PeisetaerusWhat are you bawling about?

EuelpidesHere’s another bird.

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, another one all right, and this one’s got an outlandish color too. Who can he be, this weird bird, this prophet of the Muses, this mountain-walker?note

HoopoeHis name is Mede.

PeisetaerusMede? Lord Heracles! Then how did he fly in without a camel, if he’s a Mede?note

EuelpidesAnd here’s another bird that’s seized a crest.

PeisetaerusWhat is this marvel? So you weren’t the only hoopoe—here’s another one?

HoopoeThis one is the son of Philocles’ hoopoe, and I’m his grandfather—just as you’d say Hipponicus son of Callias, and Callias son of Hipponicus.note

PeisetaerusSo this bird is Callias! Look how he’s molting.

EuelpidesWell, he’s well-born, so the informers pluck him, and the women pluck out his feathers too.note

PeisetaerusPoseidon! Here’s another one, a dyed bird. What on earth is he called?

HoopoeThis one’s a Gobbler.

PeisetaerusIs there any Gobbler besides Cleonymus?

EuelpidesBut if he were Cleonymus, wouldn’t he have thrown away his crest?note

PeisetaerusBut tell me, what’s with all the crests on these birds? Have they come to run the double-lap race?

HoopoeNo, my good man—it’s like the Carians: they live on the crests for safety.note

PeisetaerusPoseidon! Don’t you see what a nasty mob of birds has gathered?

EuelpidesLord Apollo, what a cloud of them! Wow! You can’t even see the entrance anymore, with them all flying about.

HoopoeThis one’s a partridge; that one, by Zeus, is a francolin; this one’s a widgeon; and that one there’s a kingfisher.

PeisetaerusAnd who’s that behind her?

HoopoeWho is it? A shearwater.

PeisetaerusA shearer’s a bird?

HoopoeWell, isn’t Sporgilus? And this one here is an owl.note

EuelpidesWhat are you saying? Who brought an owl to Athens?note

HoopoeJay, turtledove, lark, reed-warbler, wheatear, pigeon, nertos, hawk, ring-dove, cuckoo, redshank, firecrest, purple coot, kestrel, grebe, vine-bird, bearded vulture, woodpecker.note

PeisetaerusWow, wow, the birds! Wow, wow, the blackbirds! How they cheep, and run around shrieking! Are they threatening us? Oh no, they’ve got their beaks open, and they’re staring at you and me.

EuelpidesThat’s how it looks to me too.

ChorusPopopopopopopopopopopoi, where then is he
who called me? Where on earth does he feed?

HoopoeHere I am, I’ve been here all along. I never desert my friends.

ChorusWhat-what-what-what-what-what-what-what—what word, then,
do you bring me, your friend?

HoopoeSomething for all of us, safe, just, sweet and profitable. Two men, subtle thinkers, have come here to see me.

ChorusWhere? Which way? What do you mean?

HoopoeI mean two old men have come here from the human world, and they’ve brought the root of a colossal enterprise.

ChorusYou’ve made the biggest blunder since the day I was hatched! What are you saying?

HoopoeDon’t be afraid of the idea yet.

ChorusWhat have you done to me?

HoopoeI’ve taken in two men who are in love with our company.

ChorusYou actually did that?

HoopoeI did, and I’m glad I did.

ChorusAnd they’re already here somewhere among us?

HoopoeAs surely as I am.

ChorusAh! Ah!
We’re betrayed, we’ve suffered an outrage!
He who was our friend, who fed with us
on the same fields at our side,
has broken our ancient laws,
has broken the oaths of the birds!
He called me into a trap, and threw me to
an unholy race that, ever since it was born,
has been raised as my enemy.

Well, we’ll deal with him later. These two old men, I say, should pay the penalty and be torn to pieces by us.

PeisetaerusSo we’re done for.

EuelpidesAnd you’re the only one to blame for this mess. What did you bring me from there for?

PeisetaerusSo you’d keep me company.

EuelpidesNo—so I could cry my eyes out.

PeisetaerusNow you’re really talking nonsense. How are you going to cry, once your eyes have been pecked out?

ChorusIo! Io!
Charge, attack, bring on the hostile,
murderous onslaught! Wings on every side,
throw them around them, close them in!
These two must howl, both of them,
and give my beak its fodder.
For no shady mountain, no cloud in the upper air,
no gray sea exists that will take in
these two, if they escape me.

No more delay: let’s pluck them and bite them now. Where’s the brigade commander? Let him lead on the right wing!

EuelpidesThis is it! Where can I run, poor me?

PeisetaerusHey, won’t you stand your ground?

EuelpidesSo they can tear me to pieces?

PeisetaerusWell, how do you think you’d get away from them?

EuelpidesI don’t know how.

PeisetaerusThen I’ll tell you: we have to stand and fight, and grab some of these pots.

EuelpidesAnd what good is a pot going to do us?

PeisetaerusAn owl won’t come near us.note

EuelpidesAnd these ones here with the hooked claws?

PeisetaerusSnatch up the spit and plant it in front of you.

EuelpidesAnd what about our eyes?

PeisetaerusTake a saucer or a bowl from here and tie it on.

EuelpidesYou genius, that’s brilliant—a real general’s idea! You outshoot Nicias already when it comes to siege engines.note

ChorusEleleleu! Advance! Lower your beaks! No more delay! Drag, pluck, strike, flay—smash the pot first!

HoopoeTell me, you vilest of all creatures, why are you about to kill and tear apart two men who’ve done you no harm—kinsmen and fellow tribesmen of my wife?note

ChorusWhy should we spare them any more than wolves? Or whom could we punish who are more hateful than these?

HoopoeBut what if they’re enemies by nature but friends in their intentions, and they’ve come here to teach you something useful?

ChorusHow could these two ever teach us anything useful, or tell us anything, when they’re the enemies of my forefathers?

HoopoeOh, but the wise learn a great deal from their enemies. Caution is what keeps everything safe. You wouldn’t learn that from a friend, but an enemy forces it on you straight away. For instance, it was from enemies, not friends, that cities learned to build high walls and to own warships; and that lesson keeps children, home and property safe.

ChorusWell, it seems to us useful to hear what they have to say first. One can learn something wise even from enemies.

PeisetaerusThey seem to be letting their anger go. Fall back, slowly.

HoopoeAnd it’s only right—and you owe me a favor.

ChorusWell, we’ve never opposed you in anything else so far.

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, they’re turning more peaceable, so put down the pot and the two bowls. But we should keep the spear—the spit, I mean—and patrol inside our lines, keeping watch right over the rim of the pot, up close. There’s no running away for us.

EuelpidesSeriously, though, if we do die, where on earth will we be buried?

PeisetaerusThe Ceramicus will take us. To get a public funeral, we’ll tell the generals we died fighting the enemy at Orneae.note

ChorusFall back into line, back to your places. Ground your temper beside your anger, the way a soldier stoops to ground his arms, and let’s find out who these two are, where they’ve come from, and what they’re after. Hey, Hoopoe, I’m calling you!

HoopoeYou call me—what do you want to hear?

ChorusWho are they, and where are they from?

HoopoeTwo strangers from Greece, home of wisdom.

ChorusAnd what fortune, then, has brought
the two of them to the birds,
to come here?

HoopoeLove—
of your life and your way of living,
and to live with you
and be with you in everything.

ChorusWhat’s that?
And what are they proposing?

HoopoeThings past belief, beyond all hearing.

ChorusDoes he see some gain here worth
his staying for, that makes him trust
that, living with me …
he could beat his enemy or
be able to help his friends?

HoopoeHe speaks of some vast bliss, beyond
all words, beyond belief:
that all of this is yours—
what’s here, what’s there,
what’s over here: that’s how he wins you over.

ChorusIs he mad?

HoopoeUnspeakably sensible.

ChorusIs there some wisdom in his head?

HoopoeThe craftiest fox there is:
all cleverness, a rare catch, worn smooth,
sifted as fine as flour.

ChorusTell him, tell him to speak to me!
For hearing the words you tell me
I’m all aflutter.

HoopoeCome on, then, you two. Take this armor and hang it back up, and good luck to it, in there in the kitchen next to the pot-stand. And you, explain to these birds the proposals I called them together to hear. Lay it all out for them.

PeisetaerusNo, by Apollo, not me. Not unless they make the same pact with me that the Monkey made with his wife (the knife-maker, I mean): that they won’t bite me, or yank my balls, or poke into my—note

ChorusYou don’t mean your—? Never!

PeisetaerusNo, I mean my eyes.

ChorusI agree to the pact.

PeisetaerusThen swear to it.

ChorusI swear it, on these terms: that I win with every one of the judges and the whole audience.

PeisetaerusSo it shall be.

ChorusAnd if I break it, may I win by just one judge’s vote.

HeraldAttention, people! The infantry are hereby ordered to pick up their weapons right now and go back home, and to watch for whatever we post on the noticeboards.

ChorusMan is a crafty creature by nature,
always, in every way. Still, speak to me.
Maybe you’ll happen
to tell me some good you see in me that I’ve missed,
or some greater power
my foolish mind has passed over.
Tell everyone what you see.
Whatever good you happen
to bring me will belong to us all.

Come on, whatever plan you’ve talked yourself into and brought here with you, out with it boldly. We certainly won’t be the first to break the truce.

PeisetaerusWell, by Zeus, I’m swelling with eagerness. I’ve got one speech already mixed like dough, and there’s nothing to stop me kneading it. Boy, bring me a garland! Someone fetch water, quick, to pour over my hands.

EuelpidesAre we about to have dinner, or what?

PeisetaerusNo, by Zeus. I’ve been hunting for a while for something to say, something big and juicy, that’ll crush these birds’ souls. That’s how sorry I feel for you, since you were once kings—

ChorusUs, kings? Of what?

PeisetaerusYou were, of everything there is: of me first, of this fellow here, of Zeus himself. You were born before Cronus and the Titans, and you’re older than they are. Older than Earth, too.

ChorusThan Earth, too?

PeisetaerusYes, by Apollo.

ChorusWell, by Zeus, I never heard that.

PeisetaerusThat’s because you’re ignorant and incurious by nature, and you haven’t thumbed your Aesop. He says the crested lark was the very first bird to be born, before Earth even existed, and then her father fell sick and died. There was no earth yet, and he’d been lying out for five days, and she didn’t know what to do. So in desperation she buried her father in her own head.note

EuelpidesSo the lark’s father now lies dead and buried at Cephale.note

PeisetaerusSo, then, if they were born before Earth and before the gods, doesn’t the kingship rightly belong to them as the eldest?

EuelpidesBy Apollo, it does! So from now on you’d better start growing yourself a beak. Zeus won’t be in any hurry to hand his scepter over to the woodpecker.

PeisetaerusNow, there’s plenty of evidence that in ancient times it wasn’t gods who ruled human beings but birds, and that birds were kings. For a start, I’ll show you the rooster: how he was tyrant and ruled the Persians before anyone else, before Darius and Megabazus, so that he’s still called “the Persian bird” from that reign of his.

EuelpidesSo that’s why even now he struts around like the Great King, the only bird with his tiara standing upright on his head.note

PeisetaerusHe was so strong, so great and so mighty back then that even now, because of that old power of his, the moment he sings at dawn everyone leaps up and goes to work: smiths, potters, tanners, cobblers, bath-men, grain-dealers, lathe-lyre-shield-makers. Some of them even put on their shoes and set off while it’s still dark.

EuelpidesYou can ask me about that! Thanks to him I lost a cloak of Phrygian wool, poor wretch that I am. I’d been invited into town once to a baby’s tenth-day party, and I’d had a few drinks and just dropped off to sleep, when this fellow crowed before the others had even had dinner. I thought it was dawn and set off for Halimus. I’d only just stuck my nose outside the wall when a mugger clubbed me across the back. Down I went, and I was about to yell, but he’d already stripped the cloak off me.note

PeisetaerusAnyway, the kite was ruler and king of the Greeks back then.

ChorusOf the Greeks?

PeisetaerusYes, and it was he who, as king, first taught them to roll on the ground before kites.note

EuelpidesBy Dionysus, I certainly did roll over once when I saw a kite. And as I lay there on my back with my mouth wide open I swallowed an obol. Then I had to drag my empty bag back home.note

PeisetaerusEgypt and all Phoenicia, on the other hand, had the cuckoo for king. And whenever the cuckoo said “cuckoo,” all the Phoenicians would harvest the wheat and barley in their fields.

EuelpidesSo that’s what the old saying really means: “Cuckoo! Circumcised men, out to the fields!”note

PeisetaerusAnd their rule was so strong that if anyone was king in the cities of the Greeks, an Agamemnon or a Menelaus, a bird sat perched on his scepter, taking a share of any bribe he took.

EuelpidesWell, I didn’t know that. And it always used to amaze me when some Priam came on in the tragedies holding a bird. So it was standing there watching Lysicrates, to see what bribe he’d take!note

PeisetaerusBut here’s the most amazing thing of all. Zeus, the one who’s king now, stands there with an eagle on his head as the sign of his kingship, and his daughter has an owl, and Apollo, as his servant, a hawk.

EuelpidesBy Demeter, that’s true. So why do they have them?

PeisetaerusSo that when someone sacrifices and then puts the innards into the god’s hand, as the custom is, the birds can grab them before Zeus does. And back then no human being ever swore by a god. Everyone swore by birds. Lampon still swears “by the goose” even now, whenever he’s cheating somebody. That’s how great and holy everyone used to think you were—note

but now they think you’re slaves and idiots, a bunch of Maneses. They throw stones at you now as if you were madmen, and in the temples every bird-catcher sets up traps for you: nooses, snares, lime-twigs, nets, fine nets, meshes and cages. Then they catch you and sell you off in bunches, and the buyers finger you to see how plump you are. And if they must do this, they don’t even just roast you and serve you up. No, they grate cheese over you, and oil, silphium, vinegar, and whisk up another sauce, sweet and greasy, and then they pour it over you piping hot, as if you were carrion.note

ChorusHard, hard indeed are the words
you’ve brought us, man. How I’ve wept
for my fathers’ cowardice!
They had these honors from their forebears
and in my time they threw them away.
But you’ve come to me by the gods’ will,
by some lucky chance,
to be my savior.
I’ll put my chicks and myself
in your hands and make my home with you.

Now you’re here, teach us what we have to do. Life isn’t worth living for us unless we win back our kingship by any means we can.

PeisetaerusAll right, then. First, I propose that there be one single city of the birds. And then that you wall in the whole air all around, all this space in between, with great baked bricks, like Babylon.

HoopoeCebriones and Porphyrion! What a fearsome fortress!note

PeisetaerusAnd then, once it’s up, you demand the rule back from Zeus. If he says no, or won’t hear of it, or doesn’t concede defeat right away, you declare a holy war on him and forbid the gods to go strolling through your territory with hard-ons, the way they used to come down before to cheat on their wives with the Alcmenas and the Alopes and the Semeles. And if they try it, you slap a seal on their pricks so they can’t fuck those women anymore.note

EuelpidesI love it, a gnat for the slaughter! Now let great Zeus thunder all he likes!

ChorusAnd how will humans think we’re gods and not jackdaws, when we fly and have wings?

PeisetaerusNonsense! Why, by Zeus, Hermes flies, and he’s a god, and he wears wings, and plenty of other gods do too. Victory, for one, flies on a pair of golden wings, and so, by Zeus, does Eros. And Homer said that Hera was like a timid dove.

EuelpidesAnd won’t Zeus thunder at us and send down his winged thunderbolt?

PeisetaerusWell, if out of ignorance they think you’re nothing, and those gods on Olympus are the gods, then a cloud of sparrows and seed-pickers must rise up and peck the seed out of their fields. And then let Demeter measure out wheat to them when they’re starving.

EuelpidesShe won’t want to, by Zeus. You’ll see her making excuses.

PeisetaerusAnd the ravens, to test them, can peck out the eyes of the ox-teams they plow the land with, and of their sheep. Then let Apollo cure them, since he’s a doctor. He’s on a salary, after all.

EuelpidesNot before I’ve sold off my pair of little oxen!

PeisetaerusBut if they think of you as their god, their life, their Earth, their Cronus, their Poseidon, they’ll have every good thing there is.

HoopoeName me one of those good things.

PeisetaerusFirst of all, the locusts won’t eat up their vine-blossoms. A single company of owls and kestrels will wipe them out. Then the gnats and gall-flies won’t be forever eating their figs. One flock of thrushes will pick them all off clean.

HoopoeAnd where will we get wealth to give them? That’s what they’re really in love with.

PeisetaerusWhen they consult them for omens, these birds will give them the good mines, and they’ll tell the seer which trading voyages pay, so that not one ship’s captain will be lost.

HoopoeHow will none of them be lost?

PeisetaerusWhenever he consults about a voyage, one of the birds will always tell him in advance: “Don’t sail now, there’ll be a storm,” or “Sail now, there’ll be profit.”

EuelpidesI’m buying a freighter and going to sea. I’m not sticking around here with you!

PeisetaerusAnd they’ll show them the hoards of silver that people buried long ago, because they know where they are. That’s what everyone says, after all: “Nobody knows where my treasure is, except maybe a bird.”

EuelpidesI’m selling the freighter, buying a shovel and digging up the jars!

HoopoeAnd how will they give them health? That’s in the gods’ keeping.

PeisetaerusIf they’re doing well, isn’t that great health? Believe me, no man who’s doing badly is ever really healthy.

HoopoeAnd how will they ever reach old age? That’s on Olympus too. Or will they have to die as little children?

PeisetaerusNo, by Zeus. The birds will add three hundred more years to their lives.

HoopoeTaken from whom?

PeisetaerusFrom whom? From themselves. Don’t you know that “the cawing crow lives five generations of men”?

EuelpidesWow! These are far better kings for us than Zeus!

PeisetaerusFar better, aren’t they? First of all, we won’t have to build them stone temples or fit them with golden doors. They’ll live under bushes and scrub oaks. And for the grander birds an olive tree will be their temple. We won’t go to Delphi or to Ammon to sacrifice there. We’ll stand among the strawberry trees and wild olives holding out barley and wheat, and raise our hands and pray to them to give us a share of good things. And we’ll get them on the spot, for tossing them a few grains of wheat.note

ChorusDearest of old men to me by far, who’ve changed from my worst enemy, there’s no way I’ll ever willingly let go of your plan now.

Exulting in your words
I’ve made a threat and sworn an oath:
if you join with me
in words of one mind, just,
without guile, holy,
and march against the gods, with me

in harmony of mind, then not much longer
will the gods be wearing out my scepter.

Whatever needs doing by strength, we’ll take our stations for that. Whatever needs planning by judgment, all of that is up to you.

HoopoeAnd now, by Zeus, it’s no time for us to be dozing any longer, or to be doing a Nicias and dithering. We need to act, as fast as we can. But first, come inside my nest, my twigs and what bits of brush I have, and tell us your names.note

PeisetaerusEasy enough. My name is Peisetaerus, and this fellow is Euelpides, from Crioa.note

HoopoeWell, welcome, both of you.

PeisetaerusThank you.

HoopoeThis way, then. Come on in.

PeisetaerusLet’s go. You lead us in.

HoopoeCome.

PeisetaerusBut hey, what’s-your-name, back water and come back here a moment. Let’s see. Tell us: how are he and I going to live with you, when you fly and we don’t?

HoopoeEasily.

PeisetaerusWatch out, though. There’s a story in Aesop about the fox, and what a bad partnership she once made with an eagle.note

HoopoeDon’t be afraid. There’s a little root: chew it and you’ll both have wings.

PeisetaerusOn that basis, let’s go in. Come on, Xanthias and Manodorus, pick up the bedding.

ChorusHey, you! I’m calling you, yes, you!

HoopoeWhat are you calling me for?

ChorusTake these two along with you and give them a good lunch. But the nightingale, sweet singer in tune with the Muses, bring her out here and leave her with us, so we can play with her.

PeisetaerusOh yes, by Zeus, do as they say! Bring the little bird out of the rushes.

EuelpidesFor the gods’ sake, bring her out, so we can have a look at the nightingale too.

HoopoeWell, if you both want it, that’s what we’ll do. Procne! Come out and show yourself to our guests.

PeisetaerusZeus most honored, what a beautiful little bird! How soft, how white!

EuelpidesYou know what? I’d love to get between her thighs.

PeisetaerusAnd all that gold she’s wearing, like a young girl!

EuelpidesI think I’d even give her a kiss.

PeisetaerusYou poor sap, her beak’s like a pair of skewers!

EuelpidesWell then, by Zeus, you just peel the shell off her head like an egg, and kiss her that way.

HoopoeLet’s go.

PeisetaerusLead on, then, and good luck to us.

ChorusDear one, tawny one,
dearest of all
the birds, partner in all my
songs, nightingale, my companion,
you’ve come, you’ve come, I see you,
bringing your sweet voice to me.
You who strike up the fair-voiced pipe
with notes of spring,
lead off our anapests.note

All the greatest blessings mortals have come from us birds. First, we reveal the seasons: spring, winter, autumn. It’s time to sow when the crane flies off croaking to Libya. That’s when she tells the ship’s captain to hang up his rudder and sleep, and tells Orestes to weave himself a cloak, so he won’t shiver while he strips people of theirs. After that the kite appears and announces another season, when it’s time to shear the sheep’s spring fleece. Then comes the swallow, when it’s time to sell your heavy cloak and buy something light. We’re your Ammon, your Delphi, your Dodona, your Phoebus Apollo.note

So if you treat us as gods, you’ll have us as your prophets, your Muses, your breezes and seasons, your winter, your summer, your moderate heat. And we won’t run off and sit up there among the clouds giving ourselves airs, the way Zeus does. No, we’ll be right here, and we’ll give to you, your children and your children’s children wealth-and-health, happiness, life, peace, youth, laughter, dances, feasts, and bird’s milk. You’ll be worn out by all the good things. That’s how rich you’ll all be.note

Muse of the thicket,
tio tio tio tio tio tio tiotinx,
Muse of the dappled song, with whom I,
in the glens and on the mountain peaks,
tio tio tio tiotinx,
perched on a leafy ash,
tio tio tio tiotinx,
pour from my tawny throat
holy strains for Pan
and solemn dances for the Mountain Mother,
tototototototototinx,
where, like a bee,
Phrynichus fed on the fruit of ambrosial songs,
always bringing back sweet song.
tio tio tio tiotinx.note

If any of you spectators wants to spend the rest of his life living pleasantly among the birds, let him come to us. Everything that’s shameful here and ruled out by law is fine among us birds. If here it’s shameful by law to beat your father, up there among us it’s fine for someone to run up to his father, hit him and say, “Put up your spur, if you want a fight.” If one of you happens to be a runaway slave with a brand on him, among us he’ll be called a speckled francolin. And if someone happens to be just as much a Phrygian as Spintharus, here he’ll be a Phrygi-finch, of Philemon’s line.note

Just so the swans,
tio tio tia tio tio tiotinx,
beating their wings,
raised all together their mingled cry to Apollo,
tio tio tio tiotinx,
perched on the bank by the river Hebrus,
tio tio tio tiotinx,
and the cry went up through the clouds of heaven.
The dappled tribes of beasts cowered,
a windless calm stilled the waves,
tototototototototinx,
all Olympus rang out,
wonder seized its lords, and the Graces of Olympus
and the Muses raised a joyful shout in answer.
tio tio tio tiotinx.

There’s nothing better or sweeter than growing wings. Take any of you spectators: if he had wings, and got hungry and fed up with the tragic choruses, he could fly off, go home and have lunch, and then, once he’d eaten his fill, fly back down here to us. And if some Patroclides among you happens to need a shit, he wouldn’t have to shit himself in his cloak. He’d fly up, let off a fart, catch his breath, and fly back down again. And if one of you happens to be having an affair, and sees the woman’s husband in the Council seats, he could flap up and away from among you, go fuck her, and then fly back down again.note

PeisetaerusWell, here we are. By Zeus, I’ve never in my life seen anything more ridiculous.

EuelpidesWhat are you laughing at?

PeisetaerusAt those swift wings of yours. Do you know what you look most like with your feathers on? A goose in a cut-price painting.

EuelpidesAnd you look like a blackbird that’s been plucked with a bowl cut.

PeisetaerusThat’s how we’ve been pictured, just as in Aeschylus: “not by others, but by our own feathers.”note

HoopoeCome on, then: what needs doing?

PeisetaerusFirst we give the city a name, something grand and glorious. Then, after that, we sacrifice to the gods.

EuelpidesI’m with you on that.

HoopoeLet’s see, now. What’s our city’s name going to be?

EuelpidesHow about that grand name from Lacedaemon? Shall we call it Sparta?

PeisetaerusHeracles! Would I give my city the name Sparta? I wouldn’t even string my bed with sparta, not while I had good webbing.note

EuelpidesThen what name are we going to give it?

HoopoeSomething from right here, from the clouds and these lofty regions. Something really light and fluffy.

HoopoeHurray, hurray! That’s a truly fine, grand name you’ve found.

EuelpidesIs this Cloudcuckooland where Theogenes keeps his vast fortune, and all of Aeschines’ wealth?note

PeisetaerusBetter still, it’s the Plain of Phlegra, where the gods outdid the Earth-born Giants at bragging.note

HoopoeA splendid thing, this city! But which god will be its guardian? For whom shall we card the wool for the robe?note

EuelpidesWhy not let Athena of the City keep the job?

PeisetaerusAnd how could a city ever be well ordered where a god who was born a woman stands there in full armor, while Cleisthenes holds a weaving shuttle?note

EuelpidesThen who’ll hold our city’s Stork Wall?note

HoopoeA bird from our own ranks, of the Persian breed, said to be the fiercest anywhere: the War-god’s chick.

EuelpidesOh, Lord Chick! What a perfect god to live up on the rocks!

PeisetaerusRight, then. You get going up to the air and lend the wall-builders a hand: carry up gravel, strip off and knead the mortar, haul up the hod, fall off the ladder, post sentries, keep the fire banked, run the rounds with the bell and sleep up there. And send off heralds, one up to the gods above, another from up there down to mankind below, and from there back to me again.

EuelpidesAnd you can stay right here and go to hell—“back to me”!

PeisetaerusGo where I’m sending you, my good man. Nothing I’ve been talking about will get done without you. As for me, I’m going to sacrifice to the new gods, so I’ll call the priest to lead the procession. Boy! Boy! Pick up the basket and the holy water.

PriestI’m with you, I want it too,
I join in urging
great and solemn processional songs
to go up to the gods,
and, on top of that, in thanks,
to sacrifice some little sheep.
Let it come, let it come, the Pythian cry to the god,
and let Chaeris pipe along with the song.note

PeisetaerusYou, stop blowing! Heracles, what was that? By Zeus, I’ve seen plenty of awful things, but I’ve never yet seen a raven wearing a piper’s mouth-strap. Priest, it’s your job: sacrifice to the new gods.note

PriestI will. But where’s the man with the basket? Pray to Hestia of the Birds, and to the Kite, Keeper of the Hearth, and to the Olympian birds and bird-goddesses, all of them, every one—

PeisetaerusHail, Sunium-hawk, lord of the Stork Wall!note

Priest—and to the Pythian and Delian Swan, and to Leto, Mother of Quails, and to Artemis Goldfinch—

PeisetaerusNo more Artemis Colaenis: now it’s Artemis Goldfinch.note

Priest—and to Sabazius, the Phrygian Finch, and to the Ostrich, great mother of gods and men—note

PeisetaerusLady Cybele, Ostrich, mother of Cleocritus!note

Priest—grant health and safety to the Cloudcuckoolanders, to themselves and to the Chians—

PeisetaerusI love the way the Chians get tacked on everywhere.note

Priest—and to the hero-birds and to the heroes’ children: to the swamphen and the woodpecker and the pelican and the phlexis and the grouse and the peacock and the eleas and the bascas and the elasas and the heron and the cataract-bird and the blackcap and the titmouse—note

PeisetaerusStop, go to hell, stop calling them! Ugh, ugh! What sort of victim are you inviting sea-eagles and vultures to, you wretch? Can’t you see that a single kite could snatch this up and be off with it? Get away from us, you and your garlands. I’ll do this sacrifice myself, on my own.

PriestThen once again, it seems,
I must sing you a second song,
god-fearing and holy, over the holy water,
and call on the blessed ones—just one of them,
if you’re going to have enough to eat.
For the victims we’ve got here
are nothing but beard and horns.

PeisetaerusAs we sacrifice, let’s pray to the feathered gods.

PoetCloudcuckooland the blessed,
sing her glory, Muse,
in the music of your hymns.

PeisetaerusWhere’s this thing from? Tell me, who are you?

PoetI am one who pours forth a song
of honey-tongued verses,
a zealous servant of the Muses,
as Homer has it.

PeisetaerusSo you’re a slave, and you’ve got long hair?note

PoetNo, no. All of us poets are “zealous servants of the Muses,” as Homer has it.

PeisetaerusNo wonder your little cloak is so “zealous” too: it’s worked itself full of holes. But tell me, poet, what damned business brought you up here?note

PoetI’ve composed songs for your Cloudcuckooland: lots of fine circle-dances, and maiden-songs, and songs in the manner of Simonides.note

PeisetaerusAnd when did you compose these? Since when?

PoetLong, long have I been singing this city’s glory.

PeisetaerusBut I’m only now holding its tenth-day sacrifice, and I’ve only just given it its name, like a baby!

PoetBut swift is the word of the Muses,
like the flashing of horses.
And you, father, founder of Aetna,
namesake of holy rites,
give me whatever
with a nod of your head
you’re glad to give me, give.note

PeisetaerusThis pest is going to give us trouble unless we give him something and get rid of him. You there, you’ve got a jerkin as well as a tunic: take it off and give it to our clever poet. Here, have the jerkin. You look like you’re freezing anyway.

PoetThis gift the dear Muse
receives not unwillingly.
But you, take to heart
a Pindaric word—

PeisetaerusThe fellow’s never going to leave us alone.

PoetFor among the nomad Scythians
Straton wanders,
who owns no garment shuttle-woven;
without glory goes a jerkin with no tunic.
Mark what I tell you.

PeisetaerusI’ve marked that you want the little tunic. Take it off; we have to help the poet. There, take it and go.

PoetI’m going. And when I get to the city I’ll compose things like this: “Sing, you on the golden throne, the shivering, the freezing city.” “To snow-struck plains and many-pathed I came. Alalai!”

PeisetaerusWell, by Zeus, you’ve escaped that freezing stuff now that you’ve got the little tunic! By Zeus, I never expected this pest—that he’d hear about the city so quickly. You, take the holy water and go around again. Let all be silent!

Oracle-MongerDon’t start the rites on that goat!

PeisetaerusAnd who are you?

Oracle-MongerWho am I? An oracle-monger.

PeisetaerusThen go to hell.

Oracle-MongerMy dear sir, don’t make light of divine matters. There’s an oracle of Bacis that refers directly to Cloudcuckooland.note

PeisetaerusThen how come you weren’t reciting these oracles before I founded this city?

Oracle-MongerDivine power was holding me back.

PeisetaerusWell, there’s nothing like hearing the verses.

Oracle-Monger“But when wolves and gray crows dwell together in the same place, between Corinth and Sicyon—”

PeisetaerusAnd what have I got to do with Corinthians?

Oracle-MongerBacis was speaking in riddles: he meant the air. “First sacrifice to Pandora a white-fleeced ram; and whoever first comes to interpret my verses, give to him a clean cloak and new sandals—”

PeisetaerusThe sandals are in there too?

Oracle-MongerTake the book. “And give him a bowl, and fill his hand with innards.”

PeisetaerusGiving innards is in there too?

Oracle-MongerTake the book. “And if, inspired youth, you do as I command, an eagle in the clouds you shall become; but if you do not give, you shall be no turtledove, nor eagle, nor woodpecker.”

PeisetaerusThat’s in there too?

Oracle-MongerTake the book.

PeisetaerusWell, your oracle’s nothing like this one, which I copied down from Apollo’s: “But when uninvited there comes a man, a fraud, to trouble those who sacrifice and to hanker after the innards, then you must strike him between the ribs—”

Oracle-MongerI think you’re talking nonsense.

PeisetaerusTake the book. “And spare him not at all, not even an eagle in the clouds, not if he be Lampon, not if he be the great Diopeithes.”note

Oracle-MongerThat’s in there too?

PeisetaerusTake the book. Get out of here, won’t you? Go to hell!

Oracle-MongerOh no, poor me!

PeisetaerusRun off and do your oracle-mongering somewhere else, won’t you?

PeisetaerusAnother pest! And what are you here to do? What’s the shape of your plan? What’s the idea? Why the tragic boots for the trip?

MetonI want to survey the air for you and divide it up into plots.

PeisetaerusBy the gods, and who among men are you?

MetonWho am I? Meton, known to Greece and to Colonus.note

PeisetaerusTell me, what are these things you’ve got?

MetonRulers for the air. You see, the air, taken as a whole, is shaped very much like a baking lid. So I apply this curved ruler from above, set the compass in—you follow?

PeisetaerusI don’t follow.

MetonI’ll lay the straight ruler on and measure, so that your circle becomes a square, with a marketplace in the middle, and straight roads leading into it, right to the very center; just as from a star, which is itself round, straight rays shine out in every direction.

PeisetaerusThe man’s a Thales! Meton—note

MetonWhat is it?

PeisetaerusYou know I’m fond of you. Take my advice and quietly slip off down the road.

MetonWhy, what’s the danger?

PeisetaerusIt’s like Sparta: they’re expelling foreigners, and some have already been sent packing. There’s a lot of beating going on around town.

MetonYou’re not having a civil war, are you?

PeisetaerusNo, by Zeus, not at all.

MetonThen what?

PeisetaerusIt’s been unanimously decided to thrash all frauds.

MetonThen I’d better slip away.

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, yes, though I’m not sure you’ll make it in time. They’re closing in, right here—these!

MetonOw, damn it!

PeisetaerusDidn’t I tell you ages ago? Go and measure your way out of here, somewhere else, won’t you?

InspectorWhere are the official hosts?

PeisetaerusWho’s this Sardanapalus?note

InspectorI’ve come here to Cloudcuckooland as inspector, selected by lot with the bean.note

PeisetaerusAn inspector? And who sent you here?

InspectorA shabby little decree of Teleas.

PeisetaerusTell me: would you like to take your pay and leave without any trouble?

InspectorBy the gods, yes. I really needed to stay home for the Assembly. There’s some business I’ve been handling for Pharnaces.note

PeisetaerusTake it and go. Here’s your pay.

InspectorWhat was that?

PeisetaerusAn Assembly about Pharnaces.

InspectorI call witnesses: I’m being beaten, and I’m an inspector!

PeisetaerusShoo, won’t you? Take your two voting urns and get out, won’t you? Isn’t it outrageous? They’re already sending inspectors to the city before we’ve even sacrificed to the gods!

Decree-Seller“And if a Cloudcuckoolander does wrong to an Athenian—”

PeisetaerusWhat’s this new pest of a document?

Decree-SellerI’m a decree-seller, and I’ve come here to sell you new laws.

PeisetaerusSuch as?

Decree-Seller“The Cloudcuckoolanders shall use the same measures and weights and decrees as the Olophyxians.”

PeisetaerusAnd you’ll soon be using what the Ow-ow-yxians use.note

Decree-SellerHey, what’s the matter with you?

PeisetaerusTake your laws away, won’t you? Today I’ll show you some laws that really sting.

InspectorI summon Peisetaerus for assault, to appear in the month of Munychion.

PeisetaerusReally, you? Are you still here?

Decree-Seller“And if anyone drives out the magistrates and does not receive them as laid down on the inscribed pillar—”

PeisetaerusOh, damn it, you’re still here too?

InspectorI’ll ruin you! I’m suing you for ten thousand drachmas.

PeisetaerusAnd I’ll scatter your two urns.

Decree-SellerRemember that evening you took a shit on the inscribed pillar?

PeisetaerusUgh! Somebody grab him! Hey, you, won’t you stay put? Let’s get away from here as fast as we can and go inside to sacrifice the goat to the gods.

ChorusNow to me, the all-seeing
and all-ruling, all mortals
will sacrifice with prayers and vows.
For I watch over all the earth,
and I keep the flourishing crops safe
by killing the brood of beasts of every kind,
who with all-devouring jaws
graze on every growing thing that springs from the bud in the earth,
and on the fruit that sits upon the trees;
and I kill the ones that ruin fragrant gardens
with their hateful havoc,
and creeping things and biting things, all there are,
beneath my wing perish in slaughter.

On this very day, as it happens, there’s a proclamation going out: if any of you kills Diagoras of Melos, he gets a talent, and if anyone kills one of the tyrants—the dead ones—he gets a talent. So we want to make a proclamation of our own here. If any of you kills Philocrates of Sparrowdale, he’ll get a talent, and if he brings him in alive, four, because he strings finches together and sells them at seven for an obol; then he puffs up thrushes, puts them on display and abuses them; he stuffs feathers up the blackbirds’ nostrils; and he likewise catches pigeons and keeps them penned up, and forces them to work as decoys, tied up in a net.note

Happy the race of winged
birds, who in winter
wrap themselves in no cloaks;
nor again does the hot, far-shining ray
of stifling summer scorch us;
but in the lap of flowering meadows
and of leaves I make my home,
when the god-sent cicada,
mad with the sun,
shrills his sharp song in the noonday heat.
I winter in hollow caves,
at play with the mountain nymphs;
and in spring we feed on the virgin
white-budding myrtle
and the gardens of the Graces.

We want to say a word to the judges about the prize: all the good things we’ll give every one of them if they judge in our favor, so they get far better gifts than Alexander got. First, what every judge craves most: owls from Laurium will never leave you. They’ll make their homes with you, nest inside your purses and hatch out small change. Then, on top of that, you’ll live as if in temples, because we’ll roof your houses with eagles. And if you’re allotted some little office and then want to grab something, we’ll put a sharp little hawk in your hands. And if you’re dining out somewhere, we’ll send you extra crops.note

PeisetaerusThe sacrifices have turned out well for us, birds. But there’s still no messenger from the wall to tell us how things are going up there. Wait, here’s someone running, panting like a racer at Olympia.

First MessengerWhere, where is he, where where where is he, where where where is he, where—where’s Peisetaerus, our ruler?

PeisetaerusRight here.

First MessengerYour wall’s been built!

PeisetaerusGood news.

First MessengerA gorgeous piece of work, utterly magnificent! It’s so wide that up on top Proxenides of Boastville and Theogenes could drive two chariots past each other, with horses under them as big as the Wooden Horse.note

PeisetaerusHeracles!

First MessengerAnd its length—I measured it myself—is a hundred fathoms.

PeisetaerusPoseidon, what length! Who built it that big?

First MessengerBirds, nobody else. There wasn’t an Egyptian brick-carrier or stonemason or carpenter there; they did it with their own hands—I was amazed. From Libya came about thirty thousand cranes that had swallowed stones for the foundations, and the corncrakes dressed them with their beaks. Another ten thousand storks carried bricks, and the plovers and the other river-birds carried water up from below into the air.

PeisetaerusAnd who carried the mortar for them?

First MessengerHerons, in hods.

PeisetaerusAnd how did they get the mortar into the hods?

First MessengerThat, my good man, was worked out very cleverly: the geese dug their feet in like shovels and threw it into the hods.

PeisetaerusWell, what can’t a good pair of feet do?

First MessengerAnd by Zeus, the ducks put on aprons and carried bricks, and the swallows flew up with the trowel behind them, like little apprentices, carrying the mortar in their mouths.

PeisetaerusWhy would anyone hire hired hands anymore? Let’s see, what else? Who did the woodwork on the wall?

First MessengerThe carpenters were birds: very skilled woodpeckers, who hacked out the gates with their beaks, and the din of their hacking was like a shipyard. And now the whole place is fitted with gates and bolted and guarded all around; it’s patrolled, the bell goes the rounds, sentries are posted everywhere, and there are beacons in the towers. But I’m going to run off and wash. You take care of the rest yourself.

ChorusHey, what are you doing? Are you amazed the wall’s been walled so fast?

PeisetaerusBy the gods, I am, and it deserves it. Honestly, it looks to me just like a pack of lies. But here comes a guard, a messenger from up there, rushing toward us with a war-dance glare.

Second MessengerOh no, oh no! Oh no, oh no! Oh no, oh no!

PeisetaerusWhat’s all this?

Second MessengerSomething terrible has happened to us. One of the gods, one of Zeus’ gods, just flew in through the gates into the air, slipping past the jackdaws on day watch.

PeisetaerusWhat a terrible, outrageous thing he’s done! Which of the gods?

Second MessengerWe don’t know. That it had wings—that we know.

PeisetaerusThen shouldn’t you have sent the border patrol after him right away?

Second MessengerBut we did send them: thirty thousand hawks, mounted archers, and every one of them is moving out with talons curved—kestrel, buzzard, vulture, nighthawk, eagle. With the rush of wings and the whirring, the sky is shaking as they hunt for the god. And he’s not far off; he’s somewhere around here already.

PeisetaerusShouldn’t we get slings and bows? Here, all attendants! Shoot! Hit him! Somebody give me a sling!

ChorusWar is rising, war beyond words,
between me and the gods. Come, everyone, guard
the cloud-wrapped air that Erebus begot,
so no god slips past you crossing here.

…Everyone, keep watch, look all around you, because close by now you can hear the winged whirring of a god on high.

PeisetaerusYou there, where, where, where are you flying? Stay quiet! Keep still! Stop right there! Halt! Who are you? Where are you from? You have to say where you come from.

IrisI come from the gods, the Olympians.

PeisetaerusAnd your name? What are you—a ship or a bonnet?

IrisSwift Iris.

PeisetaerusThe Paralus or the Salaminia?note

IrisWhat’s that supposed to mean?

PeisetaerusWon’t some buzzard fly up and arrest this one?

IrisArrest me? What on earth is this nonsense?

PeisetaerusYou’re going to howl for this, long and loud.

IrisThis is very peculiar.

PeisetaerusWhich gate did you come through into the wall, you filthy wretch?

IrisBy Zeus, I’ve no idea which gate.

PeisetaerusDid you hear how she’s playing dumb? Did you report to the jackdaw-captains? Won’t you answer? Do you have a stamped pass from the storks?

IrisWhat is this nonsense?

PeisetaerusYou didn’t get one?

IrisAre you quite right in the head?

PeisetaerusAnd no bird-officer on duty stuck a pass on you either?

IrisNo, by Zeus, nobody’s stuck anything on me, mister.

PeisetaerusAnd so you just fly on through like this, without a word, through a city that’s not yours, and through the void?

IrisWell, what other way are gods supposed to fly?

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, I’ve no idea—but not this way. You’re breaking the law even now. Do you realize that of all the Irises there are, you’d be the one most justly caught and put to death, if you got what you deserve?

IrisBut I’m immortal.

PeisetaerusYou’d have died all the same. It’d be a terrible state of affairs, it seems to me, if we rule everything else while you gods run riot and still don’t grasp that it’s your turn now to obey your betters. Now tell me: where are you sailing those two wings of yours?

IrisMe? I’m flying to mankind from my father, to tell them to sacrifice to the Olympian gods, to slaughter sheep on ox-offering altars and fill the streets with the savor of sacrifice.

PeisetaerusWhat are you talking about? Which gods?

IrisWhich? Us, the gods in heaven.

PeisetaerusSo you’re gods?

IrisWell, what other god is there?

PeisetaerusBirds are mankind’s gods now, and it’s to them men must sacrifice—not, by Zeus, to Zeus.

IrisFool, fool, do not stir the gods’ dread wrath, lest Justice with the mattock of Zeus overturn your whole race root and branch, and smoky flame burn your body and the enfolding walls of your house to cinders with Licymnian bolts!note

PeisetaerusListen, you: stop that bubbling and frothing. Keep still. Let’s see now: do you think it’s some Lydian or Phrygian you’re frightening with talk like that? Do you realize that if Zeus gives me any more trouble, I’ll burn his halls and the houses of Amphion to cinders with fire-bearing eagles? I’ll send swamphens up to heaven against him, birds dressed in leopard skins, more than six hundred of them. Once upon a time a single Porphyrion gave him plenty of trouble. And as for you, if you give me any trouble, I’ll start with the servant: I’ll hoist her legs and fuck Iris herself between the thighs, and she’ll be amazed how an old man like me can still stand up stiff as a warship’s triple ram.note

IrisDamn you, mister, may you burst, words and all!

PeisetaerusShoo, won’t you? Quick now! Shoo! Scat!

IrisMy father will put a stop to your insolence, I swear it!

PeisetaerusOh dear, poor me! Why not fly off somewhere else and burn some younger man to cinders?

ChorusWe’ve shut the Zeus-born gods out:
no more shall they cross my city,
and no more shall any mortal
send up to the gods from the ground here
the smoke of sacrifice.

PeisetaerusIt’s worrying about that herald who went off to the mortals, if he’s never coming back.

HeraldPeisetaerus! Blessed one! Wisest of men! Most famous! Wisest! Smoothest! Thrice-blessed! Give me the word!

PeisetaerusWhat are you saying?

HeraldWith this golden crown, for your wisdom, all the peoples crown you and honor you.

PeisetaerusI accept. But why do the peoples honor me like this?

HeraldYou founder of the glorious city in the sky, you don’t know how much honor you’ve won among mankind, or how many lovers of this land you have! Before you founded this city, all mankind was Sparta-mad: they grew their hair long, went hungry, went unwashed, played Socrates and carried Spartan sticks. But now they’ve turned right around and gone bird-mad, and they get such a kick out of it that they copy everything birds do. First thing at dawn they all fly out of bed together, just like us, to go and feed; then they all swoop down together on the papers, and there they graze on decrees. They were so openly bird-mad that plenty of them even had bird names given to them.note

PeisetaerusThen, by Zeus, this is no time for us to stand around. You, go as fast as you can and fill all the hampers and baskets with wings. Let Manes bring the wings out to me, and I’ll welcome the people as they arrive.

ChorusSoon enough some human
will call this city “crowded with men.”

PeisetaerusIf only our luck holds.

ChorusLove for my city has everyone in its grip.

PeisetaerusBring them faster, I said!

ChorusFor what good thing isn’t here
for a man who comes to settle?
Wisdom, Desire, Ambrosia, the Graces,
and the sunny face
of gentle-hearted Peace and Quiet.

PeisetaerusHow lazily you serve!
Won’t you get a move on?

ChorusSomeone bring a basket of wings, and quick!
And you, get him going again—

PeisetaerusYes, by hitting him like this.

ChorusHe’s as slow as a donkey.

PeisetaerusThat’s because Manes is useless.

ChorusAnd you, first sort out
these wings in proper order:
the musical ones together, the prophetic ones,
and the sea birds. Then be sure
to size up each man and fit him with wings to suit.

PeisetaerusBy the kestrels, I can’t keep my hands off you any longer, seeing how useless and slow you are.

Father-BeaterOh, to become a high-flying eagle,
to soar above the barren
swell of the gray-blue sea!

PeisetaerusLooks like our messenger’s report was no lie: here comes someone singing about eagles.

Father-BeaterAah! There’s nothing sweeter than flying! I’m bird-mad, I’m flying, and I want to live with you. I’m longing for your laws.

PeisetaerusWhich laws? Birds have plenty of laws.

Father-BeaterAll of them. But most of all the one where birds think it’s fine to throttle your father and bite him.

PeisetaerusYes, by Zeus, we think it’s very manly indeed when a chick has beaten up his father.

Father-BeaterThat’s exactly why I’ve moved here: I want to throttle my father and get everything he’s got.

PeisetaerusAh, but we birds have an ancient law, written on the storks’ law-tablets: once the father stork has raised all his storklings and got them ready to fly, the chicks have to feed their father in turn.

Father-BeaterWell, by Zeus, a fat lot of good coming here did me, if I have to feed my father too!

PeisetaerusNot at all. Since you came here with good intentions, my friend, I’ll fit you out with wings like an orphan bird. And I’ll give you some advice, young man, and not bad advice either: the kind I was taught myself when I was a boy. Don’t hit your father. Here, take this wing, and this spur in your other hand, and think of this crest as a rooster’s comb. Now stand guard, go soldiering, earn your own keep on army pay, and let your father live. Since you’re so keen on fighting, fly off to the Thracian front and fight there.note

Father-BeaterBy Dionysus, I think you’re talking sense. I’ll do as you say.

PeisetaerusThen you’ll be showing some sense, by Zeus.

CinesiasUp I fly to Olympus on weightless wings;
I fly now down one path of song, now another—

PeisetaerusThis job is going to need a whole cargo of wings.

Cinesiaswith fearless mind and body, pursuing a new—

PeisetaerusGreetings, Cinesias, man of linden-wood! Why are you whirling that crooked foot of yours around and around in a circle over here?note

CinesiasI want to become a bird, a clear-voiced nightingale.

PeisetaerusStop singing and tell me what you mean.

CinesiasI want you to give me wings, so I can soar aloft and fetch fresh preludes from the clouds, air-whirled and snow-swept.

PeisetaerusYou can get preludes from the clouds?

CinesiasWhy, our whole art hangs from them! The brilliant parts of a dithyramb are airy and murky and dark-gleaming and wing-whirled. Listen and you’ll soon see.

PeisetaerusNo, I really won’t.

CinesiasOh yes you will, by Heracles. I’ll take you through the whole of the air.

Phantoms of winged,
sky-coursing,
long-necked birds—

PeisetaerusWhoa there!

Cinesiasleaping along the sea-paths,
may I travel on the breath of the winds—

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, I’ll put a stop to your breath!

Cinesiasnow striding down the southern road,
now bringing my body close to the North Wind,
cutting a harborless furrow through the sky—

Very charming, old man, and very clever of you.

PeisetaerusWhat, don’t you enjoy being wing-whirled?

CinesiasIs that how you treat a trainer of circular choruses, a man the tribes are always fighting over?

PeisetaerusWell then, would you like to stay here with us and train a chorus of flying birds for Leotrophides, from the tribe of Cecropis?note

CinesiasYou’re making fun of me, that’s obvious. But I won’t stop, you can be sure of that, until I’ve got my wings and gone racing through the air.

InformerWho are these birds with nothing, with their dappled wings?
Long-winged, dappled swallow!

PeisetaerusThis is no small trouble that’s woken up. Here comes another one, warbling his way over.

InformerLong-winged, dappled—once again!

PeisetaerusI think he’s singing his drinking song to that cloak of his. He looks like he needs quite a few swallows.note

InformerWho’s the one who gives wings to new arrivals around here?

PeisetaerusHe’s right here. But you’ll have to tell me what you need.

InformerWings, wings, I need wings. Don’t make me say it twice.

PeisetaerusYou’re not planning to fly straight to Pellene, are you?note

InformerNo, by Zeus. I serve summonses in the islands, and I’m an informer—

PeisetaerusLucky you, what a profession!

Informer—and a lawsuit-digger. So I need to get wings and go whizzing around the cities serving summonses.

PeisetaerusAnd you’ll serve summonses more cleverly with wings?

InformerNo, by Zeus. It’s so the pirates won’t bother me, and so I can fly back from there with the cranes, with a load of lawsuits swallowed for ballast.note

PeisetaerusSo that’s the work you do? Tell me, a young man like you, and you make a living informing on foreigners?

InformerWhat else can I do? I don’t know how to dig.

PeisetaerusBut by Zeus there are other, decent jobs a man your size ought to be making an honest living from, instead of stitching up lawsuits.

InformerMy dear sir, don’t lecture me, just give me wings.

PeisetaerusI’m giving you wings right now, as I talk.

InformerAnd how could you give a man wings with words?

PeisetaerusWords give everyone wings.

InformerEveryone?

PeisetaerusHaven’t you heard the fathers in the barbershops, always going on about their boys like this? “It’s terrible: Diitrephes has talked my boy into such a flutter that he’s all wings for riding horses.” And another says his son has taken wing for tragedy, and his mind has flown off.

InformerSo people really get wings from words?

PeisetaerusI’d say so. Words send the mind soaring and lift a man up. And that’s how I want to give you wings too, with good words, and turn you to an honest job.

InformerBut I don’t want to.

PeisetaerusThen what will you do?

InformerI won’t disgrace my family. Informing is the life my grandfather led. Just give me wings, fast, light wings, a hawk’s or a kestrel’s, so I can summon the foreigners, bring my charges here, and then fly back over there again.

PeisetaerusI get it. What you mean is, the foreigner has already lost his case here before he even arrives.

InformerYou get it exactly.

PeisetaerusAnd then, while he’s sailing over here, you fly back over there to grab his property.

InformerYou’ve got it all. I have to be just like a spinning top.

PeisetaerusI get it: a top. And by Zeus, I happen to have just the thing, some lovely Corcyraean wings.note

InformerOh no, you’ve got a whip!

PeisetaerusNo, these are wings, and with them I’ll set you spinning like a top today.

InformerOh no!

PeisetaerusWing it out of here, won’t you? Scram, you damned crook! You’ll soon get a bitter taste of your case-twisting crookery. Come on, let’s gather up the wings and go.

ChorusMany new and marvelous things
we’ve flown over,
and strange sights we’ve seen.
There’s a tree that grows,
an outlandish thing, out beyond
Cardia: Cleonymus,
useless for anything,
but big and cowardly.
Every spring it
sprouts its figs and informs,
and every winter, in turn,
it sheds its shields like leaves.note

And there’s a land, besides,
far off near the Dark itself,
in the land without lamps,
where people lunch with the heroes
and keep them company—
except in the evening.
At that hour it was no longer
safe to run into them.
For if any mortal met
the hero Orestes at night,
he was stripped naked, and struck by him
all down his right side.note

PeisetaerusHey, what’s this? Who’s this all muffled up?

PrometheusDo you see any of the gods behind me here?

PeisetaerusNo, by Zeus, I don’t. But who are you?

PrometheusSo what time of day is it?

PeisetaerusWhat time? A little past noon. But who are you?

PrometheusOx-unyoking time, or later?

PeisetaerusUgh, you’re making me sick.

PrometheusWhat’s Zeus doing? Clearing the clouds away or piling them up?

PeisetaerusGo to hell!

PrometheusAll right, then, I’ll uncover myself.

PeisetaerusPrometheus, my dear friend!

PrometheusStop it, stop it, don’t shout!

PeisetaerusWhy, what’s the matter?

PrometheusQuiet, don’t say my name! You’ll be the death of me if Zeus sees me here. But so I can tell you everything that’s going on up there, take this parasol of mine and hold it up over me, so the gods can’t see me.

PeisetaerusHa, ha! Well thought of, and very Promethean of you: real forethought! Get under it quick, and then speak up and don’t be afraid.

PrometheusListen, then.

PeisetaerusGo on, I’m listening.

PrometheusZeus is finished.

PeisetaerusSince when, roughly?

PrometheusEver since you people settled the air. Not a single human sacrifices anything to the gods anymore, and not a whiff of the savor of burnt thighbones has come up to us since that day. We’re fasting with no offerings, as if it were the Thesmophoria. And the foreign gods, starving and screeching like Illyrians, say they’ll march down on Zeus from up above unless he gets the trading posts opened, so that sliced-up innards can be imported.note

PeisetaerusYou mean there are other gods, foreign ones, above you?

PrometheusWell, if there were no foreigners, where would Execestides have gotten his ancestral god from?note

PeisetaerusAnd what’s the name of these foreign gods?

PrometheusTheir name? Triballians.note

PeisetaerusI get it. So that’s where we get “tribulation” from!note

PrometheusExactly. Now I’ll tell you one thing straight. Envoys are going to come here to talk peace, from Zeus and from the Triballians up there. Don’t you make a treaty unless Zeus hands the scepter back to the birds and gives you Basileia for your wife.note

PeisetaerusWho’s Basileia?

PrometheusA gorgeous girl, the one who keeps Zeus’ thunderbolt for him, and absolutely everything else as well: good counsel, good government, self-control, the dockyards, the name-calling, the paymaster, the three-obol jury pay.note

PeisetaerusSo she keeps everything for him?

PrometheusI’d say so. If you get her from him, you’ve got everything. That’s why I came here, to tell you. I’ve always been a friend to humans.

PeisetaerusYes, you’re the only god we have to thank for our barbecues.

PrometheusAnd I hate all the gods, as you know.

PeisetaerusBy Zeus, you’ve always been hated by the gods, that’s for sure.

PrometheusA regular Timon. But I have to run back. Give me the parasol, so that even if Zeus does see me from up there, it’ll look like I’m attending a basket-bearer.note

PeisetaerusHere, take this stool too, and carry it like a stool-bearer.

ChorusAnd near the Shadowfeet there’s
a lake, unwashed, where
Socrates calls up souls.
Peisander came there too,
begging to see the soul that
deserted him while he was alive.
For victim he brought a camel-lamb,
cut its throat, just as
Odysseus once did, and stepped back;
and up from below to meet him,
to the camel’s gushing gullet,
came Chaerephon the bat.note

PoseidonWell, there’s the town of Cloudcuckooland in view, where we’re going as envoys. You there, what are you doing? Wearing your cloak on the left like that? Shift it over to the right, won’t you, like this? What’s wrong with you, you poor wretch? Were you born a Laespodias? Democracy, democracy, where will you lead us in the end, if the gods have gone and elected this fellow?note

Will you keep still?

Damn you! I’ve never seen a god as foreign as you, not by a long way. Well, Heracles, what do we do?

HeraclesYou’ve heard me say it: I want to throttle the fellow, whoever he is, who walled the gods off.

PoseidonBut my good man, we were chosen as envoys to make peace.

HeraclesThat makes me want to throttle him twice as much.

PeisetaerusSomebody give me the cheese-grater. Bring the silphium. Someone bring cheese. Stoke up the coals.note

PoseidonWe gods, the three of us, bid the man good day.

PeisetaerusHold on, I’m grating the silphium.

HeraclesWhose meat is this?

PeisetaerusSome birds who rose up against the democratic birds were found guilty.

HeraclesAnd so you’re grating silphium on them first?

PeisetaerusOh, hello, Heracles! What can I do for you?