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Once, a little blue-scaled flying 

fish gazed up towards the sky 

through the water, which was 

shimmering and sparkling in 

the early sunlight.

“I wish I were a bird.”   He 

whispered to himself as he 

watched a flock of birds dive and 

swoop gracefully in the air like 

small, feathered ballerinas.  

They grazed the water with the 

tips of their wings, and their 

figures became distorted in the 

little fish’s vision because of 

the ripples they created.

“They can fly as high as they 

want, and I can’t go very high 

at all.   I only glide a little ways 

off of the water.”

Then his mother swam up 

behind him and asked, “What’s 

wrong, my little fish?   You look 

unhappy.”  

    Her green scales glistened 

in the light streaming through 

the water. 

“I want to fly higher. I want to 

be farther from the water,” he 

answered, then asked, 

“Wouldn’t it be fun if I could 

get to the top of the Great 

Tree, Mother?”   

“What?” his puzzled mother 

asked, with a flick of her 

shining, wing-like fins. 

The little blue fish turned and 

asked again, “I said, wouldn’t 

it be fun to be able to get to 

the top of the Great tree?”  

“Great Coral Reef, NO! It 

wouldn’t,” was her answer. 

“Where do you get such funny 

ideas?” 

He seemed not to hear her.  

“I want to go to the top.   I 

want to get higher.”  

“No! Why, it’s impossible and 

dangerous!” his mother 

retorted, and his little blue 

scales flashed as he replied, 

“But I want to!   I would be 

famous for doing a thing like that, 

and be known as the only fish that 

has ever gotten to the top of the 

Great Tree.   Afterwards, I can 

soar back down to the ocean, 

and fly as high as the birds.” 

    His mother looked 

saddened.

“My little fish, be happy that 

you can leap out of the water 

and fly.   Many other fish can’t.  

Why would you risk your life 

being foolish and try to get 

higher?” she asked him.  

He almost yelled back, “I’m not 

foolish, and it will work!”   and 

he sped to the surface of the 

water and flew along the top of 

it.   He did not stop until he 

reached the shore.

There, at the shore, he saw the 

Great Tree.   It was the tallest 

tree in the world.   If he could 

only get to the top!   He tried to 

get to it by wriggling onto the 

shore, but he didn’t like the 

feel of the ground.

Meanwhile, a pelican, who was 

looking for his meal, was flying 

overhead.   Noticing the little fish, 

he said to himself, “Well, what do 

we have here?   Looks like a young 

fish got caught on the beach. This 

must be my lucky day!”   He 

landed near the little blue fish. 

Suddenly, what he heard shocked 

him.  

“Hey, Mister!” 

The puzzled bird looked down 

at that very fish stuck on the 

shore.  

“Yes, you!   What are you?” the 

little fish asked innocently.  

“Why, I’m a—friend,” the bird 

replied with a sneaky grin.   The 

fish didn’t see this grin.  

“I’m a flying fish,” he said.   “I 

need some help.   Do you think 

you could carry me up to the 

top of the Great Tree, please?”  

The pelican grinned again.  

“Of course I will,” he told him.  

“Great!” the unknowing fish 

exclaimed.   “Nice to meet you.  

I’m going to be the first fish 

ever to be at the top of the 

Great Tree.   I’ll be able to soar 

back down to the ocean and 

see everything! I’m going to be 

famous.”  

The pelican promptly scooped 

him up, and away they flew to 

the tricky bird’s nest, high in 

the Great Tree.  

“Thanks, Mister.   Aw, is this 

your family?” The poor fish 

asked politely, referring to 

three small, fluffy chicks in the 

nest.  

“Yes.”   replied the pelican, 

setting him down.   Again he 

grinned.   “And they are quite 

hungry. I think you will do 

nicely for their meal.”

The little flying fish suddenly 

realized the trouble he was in. 

He flopped around, trying to 

dodge the hungry, sharp beaks 

of the chicks.   Luckily, he 

flopped high enough that he 

tipped over the edge of the 

nest. He tumbled down, down, 

down, towards the water.   

As he fell, he couldn’t fly like 

he could so close to the water. 

So he kept falling, falling, 

falling to the ocean. He hit the 

water hard with a splash.   It 

hurt.

“Oh, I’ll never try to get to the 

top of the Great Tree again,” he 

promised himself.   Suddenly, 

he heard a cry, and turning 

around he saw his mother 

approaching. She was worried 

sick.      

“I’ve been looking everywhere 

for you!” she chided her little 

fish.  

“I’m sorry, Mother,” he told her, 

“I should’ve listened to you.  

Maybe I was being foolish.”   

“I forgive you, my little fish,” 

she comforted him.  

“I’m just glad you’re safe, and 

I hope you won’t get any more 

crazy ideas.   I’m not saying 

that you shouldn’t try to be a 

better you...just don’t try to be 

a completely different animal." 

"Those birds can fly quite high, 

but they could never swim as 

well as you can because they 

are birds.   I don’t want you to 

be a bird; I want you to be my 

own little flying fish.”  

The little fish smiled, “Don’t 

worry, Mother.   I will be your 

little flying fish—the best little 

flying fish I can be—forever 

and ever.”

And he meant it.   He was a 

thankful little blue flying fish, 

and from that point on, was 

always happy with who he was.