Willie was a little brown bunny. Every day he would hop and play around the bushes near his house. He loved to sit and listen to the music of the birds as they sang high in the trees. ‘They sing real pretty,’ thought Willie. ‘I sure wish I could sing a pretty tune like they do.’
One day as he sat staring at the trees and listening to the birds sing their pretty songs, a small tear rolled down his cheek. Booker-T came around the corner and found him staring at the trees. He sat down beside Willie.
“What is wrong this morning Willie?” asked Booker-T. “You look sad today.”
“I can’t do anything Booker-T,” sighed Willie.
“What do you mean?” said Booker-T. “I’m sure there is something that you can do.”
“I can’t sing like the birds do and they sure sound pretty when they sing,” said Willie.
“But you do other things and the birds can’t do what you do,” said Booker-T trying to cheer up Willie.
“But I want to sing a pretty tune and make the world happy with my songs,” said Willie.
“Not every one of us can sing Willie,” said Booker-T. “I can’t sing either.”
“You can’t sing either?” asked Willie.
“Even though you can’t sing, you still have a special place in the world. Every one of us has a special place,” said Booker-T.
“Really?” asked Willie. “Even if we can’t do anything, we still have a special spot?”
“Oh yes,” said Booker-T. “We all contribute in other small ways to this world.”
“Do you wish you could sing like the birds?” asked Willie.
“No, I’m happy being me,” said Booker-T. “But I enjoy listening to the birds sing.”
“But what can I do?” asked Willie. “I’m just a little bunny with no talent for anything.”
“That’s not true,” said Booker-T. “You can wiggle your nose and you eat carrots. You are soft and cuddly. The birds can’t wiggle their noses and they are not cuddly.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said Willie. “I guess you are right. We all have to be happy with what we can do. I’ll just enjoy listening to the birds sing their happy music every day.”
“That’s good Willie,” said Booker-T. “I’m glad you understand now.”