As Freedom flew over the open landscape, divided by colonies of trees huddled together between the encroaching farmlands, he noticed a farmer taking his produce to market in a cart. "Simpleton!" scoffed Freedom as he flew over the heavily laden cart on creaky wheels driven by a wizened farmer. Freedom turned a summersault in the air, just because he could, and the old man could not; and as he did, another of his largest feathers loosened, and sailed away from him on the air shafts. The farmer gave him a cursory look and then shook his head. "No matter," thought Freedom as he straightened himself out. "I can still do as I wish, in contrast to all of you below."
A flock of smaller birds desperately flapped their spartan wings as they flew past. They were not sufficiently endowed to enjoy flying, he thought, and then cawed: "Get out of the skies, losers! Maybe you should try swimming instead!" He guffawed, and taunted them by swooping over and under them, just because he could. In that very moment, several feathers loosened and sailed away from him like devious maidens on the air shafts. Quickly, he tried to level himself out, and felt the imbalance. So many feathers had loosened and fallen out, he could no longer fly straight.
He soared lower over a lake to avoid turbulence, and caught sight of his reflection in the water. It bothered him. His plumage looked decidedly scruffy and anaemic. All that he knew to do now was to caw more loudly: "I can do whatever I want. I am Freedom!" Without any feathers to hold him up, Freedom drowned in the lake, cawing those words.
In a tiny creek that flowed from the lake into the great river, the fine feathers drifted on the surface of the water from rock to rock. They were so light and silent that the water couldn't drown them. And even if it did, they wouldn't mind at all because they were free.