The Eagle and the Prarie Chickens

The Indian brave was walking by the cliffs when he stumbled across an eagle egg. He picked it up, turned his gaze upward, shook his head, and knew that he could not climb the cliff to return the egg to its nest. He searched until he found the nest of a prairie chicken and placed the egg in with the prairie chicken eggs. The eagle hatched and stayed on the ground with the prairie chickens scratching in the dirt for bugs and worms and seeds and never flying more than ten or fifteen feet, not knowing within its heart it had to ability to soar the skies.

One day a mighty eagle was soaring the skies when the little eagle looked up and exclaimed, "Wow, what kind of bird is that!" The prairie chickens hollered out, "Shut up! Tha's the mighty eagle. You'll never be able to soar like that. Keep scratching in the dirt for bugs and worms and seeds."

So the little eagle spent its life only flying a few feet from place to place on the ground as it scratched in the dirt for bugs and worms and seed with the rest of the prairie chickens. Finally, it died, not knowing that within it it had the ability to soar like the eagle, but lived its life listening to the prairie chick ens around it, and all it did was scratch in the dirt for bugs and worms and seed .

(From here modify to fit your audience.)

How many times to we listen to the prairie chickens in our lives when within us we have the ability to soar with the eagles. We would like to be challenged and soar, but the prairie chickens say, "You can't soar. Be happy to scratch in the dir t for bugs and worms and seeds." They say you're dumb, you're stupid, you can't do that. We listen, turn our heads and thoughts back to the ground and scratch in the dirt for bugs and worms and seeds.

Meanwhile back at the eagles' nest what has going on there. The eagles built the nest out of sticks that are not at all comfortable to lay on, so to make it a sof t and a suitable place to raise their young the eagles pull the soft downy feathers from their breasts and line the nest with these so that the little eaglets will have a nice soft warm place to grow up. Time has passed. the eaglets are now teenagers. They are kicked back watching MTV and hitting the icebox and cabinet for drinks and chips.

Deuteronomy 32:11 says, "Like an eagle that stirs up its nest that flutters over its young, spreading out its wings, catching them, bearing them on its pinions..." Mom comes in and starts pulling out the soft downy feathers, tossing them to the wind. All of a sudden it is not such a soft place any more. The little ones are squirming and hollering, "Ouch!" The mother eagle then stirreth her nest, which is to say she kicks the little darlings out of the nest. They are now on the edge of the cliff by the nest. They look waaaaaaaaaay down! Momma eagle walks behind one of them and gives him a kick. Off he goes falling, falling, screaming, "Awaaaaa aaaaakkkk!" flapping and a flopping, falling hundreds of feet. The ground is rushing up , and it looks like the little one will be splattered on the rocks below. When right at the last moment the mother eagle swoops down, clasp the little eaglet in her great talons, and returns the little one to the cliff. With huge eyes and its heart pounding the little eagle looks up at its mom, and screams, "Don't ever do that again!!!! But guess what! Mother eagle knows that if the little ones are going to soar then they need to be pushed and challenged. Sure enough. She gives him another push, and another, and another until at last the eaglets begin to soar with great exuberance.

(Again change to fit your audience.)

We as Scouters need to be pushed and challenge so that we can do the same for our scouts. We must be careful not to be scratching in the dirt for bugs and worms and seeds, nor should we let our scouts scratch in the dirt for bugs and worms and seeds with they have within them the potential to soar.

I got the idea for this from John Hagee, pastor of the Cornerstone Church in San Antonio. I have expanded it, and thrown in a few thoughts.

J. Phil Gilbreath