Old as the ‘groves this marsh-tale is, young one, which I tell to you now same as it was told to me. Many and more seasons and turnings past, the creatures o’ the marsh came to these shores, and here we fished and wove and gathered in the bounty o’ the swamps and seas. Then it was that those who lived here were of fin an’ scale, o’ wet skin and tail, and few were they who braved the marshes who could not swim their waters! The creatures o’ the Northlands could not travel the swamps, and so we had parted ways for a time, like two branches o’ the bayou diverted. The marshfolk who most loved the sea built their homes in the mangroves, sure as they do today, and the red spores o’ the island mushrooms whispered us a name for the place. Storms and flood crashed mighty against the Saffrons, but always the mangroves held fast and protected us, their roots protectin’ the marshes from the ocean’s fury. Let this be a lesson for you, as it was for them. Look, and listen!

Things got around to starting one day when the sun was high an’ bright, and the winds light in the mangrove branches. The folk o’ the islands peered out to sea, and what did they spy but a ship, or some such thing, for never had they laid eyes on such a craft as they did then. Shine it did, gleamin’ like the surface o’ the waters, and movin’ faster than any wind had blown before. Far off it was, and it came to rest upon the horizon like a leaf, and there it stayed the full day without movin’. The islandfolk were powerful curious, o’ course, but none thought it wise to venture so far out into the deep water, especially as the weather watchers caught signs o’ a great storm brewin’ on the wind. An’ so they simply watched from afar, placin’ bets on whether the strange craft out there would hightail it or no.

Weren’t no fool out and about come nighfall when that storm came in, an’ what a storm it was! The waves frothin’ like beasts out o’ stories, an’ the mangroves whippin’ about set creatures to burrowin’ deep into the roots or ridin’ things out inland. All night that storm howled an’ raged, blowin’ itself out sometime by dawn so that the sun shone down clear once again. An’ as the island folks know, a storm brings all sorts o’ flotsam an’ treasures up to the surface for the finding, so out they were early to go a huntin’ amongst the mangroves an’ the muck. Much they found in the way o’ ocean weed an’ bounty - fish an’ shells an’ food for a feast! But so it was as they picked and scavenged that they stumbled on a chest o’ strange design, made of metal and a strange sort o’ shell. And inside what did they find but three eggs, safe as can be, nestled amongst sponge an’ soft black moss.

Now as you might imagin’, this caused quite the stir among the island folk. Ain’t nobody would have gone and set aside eggs on their lonesome, an’ certain it was that only tragical happenstance would tear away a mama from her clutch. Stranger still, the eggs t’weren’t ones that any there might recognize, besides knownin’ the white shells to be from some sort o’ bird. Sure as anythin’ they must have come from that strangeness on the horizon, an’ only then was it that the creatures looked up to find that the ship they had spied was disappeared like mists under sunshine. Confused an’ unsure, the creatures called together their elders to settle out on which way to paddle.

Turtle an’ Gull an’ Gator were then the eldest and wisest, and all had looked on their fair share o’ eggs besides. As ever Gull was quick to speak, an’ she raised up a right ruckus soon as she did! These weren’t the eggs o’ any o’ the islandfolk, she said, and who were they to say what they might hatch themselves into. More mouths to feed wasn’t somethin’ to put on any o’ them, an’ it was custom as those who got lost in the swamps were to be kept by the spirits. Let them hatch ‘em, if they wanted to.

Up rose Turtle then, slow an’ sure, for their turn to speak. Turnin’ to Gull, they raised a patient claw to point out that the Mysts themselves had delivered these eggs to the islanders, an’ a bad omen or worse would it be to go against the will o’ the Mysts. Clear as still water, they were meant to raise the eggs an’ whatever was to hatch out of them. At how they were to go about that though, Turtle scratched his head. None there knew what the eggs would need to hatch, nor what they might hatch into. Turtle gazed out on the islanders, an’ asked them which would take care o’ the eggs and see to their hatching. Silence an’ shufflin’ feet were his reply, until up came Gator with a fire in her one eye which glared down at the lot there gathered.

How dare they speak o’ spirits, Gator fumed, or even the Mysts themselves when there was little ones in need o’ lookin’ after! Never had she seen such a group o’ cowardly eel-bellies, an’ sure was she that none o’ the folk there had listened to a word from her in all their lives, if this was how they got on! Straight away she called for the eggs, sayin’ they were in her care now and she meant to hatch them herself. Well, Gator’s words crisped the edges o’ hearts no mistake, such that the room fulla critters cried assent, an’ promised an’ pleaded with Gator that they’d aim to help an’ support the little ones no matter what. Even Gull looked abashed, which was a sight few had seen before. So off they all went, Gator leadin’ the way to where she kept her own clutches, and nestled them eggs into the nicest gator-mound you could think on. An’ there she sat, mornin’ an’ night, for nigh on a month’s time while the rest o’ the islanders, true to their word o’ their fear o’ Gator’s scowl, brought her food an’ forage enough to spend the days. An’ when at last she heard the peep-peepin’ o’ newly-hatched younglings, she shoved open the nest with one sweep o’ her long tail to lay eyes on the ugliest three little chicks you might clap eyes on!

‘Twas clear right off the three youngsters were birds, though not o’ any kind the folk of the islands had ever seen before. Gator didn’t pay that no mind though, givin’ them hatchlings her brightest an’ most warming smile. The locals didn’t fare as kindly by her, and out they scattered to fetch food as was fit for the chicks. Sure an’ steady they grew, like three lil’ puffballs o’ cat-tail fluff, an’ soon enough they were hopping all about an’ over their proud adoptive mama, ridin’ on her back as she brought them all about the swamps to show ‘em off. An’ so they were named Ripplewing, an’ Placide, an’ Rene Pinbeak, and all the swamp called them the Found Eggs. Oh, right charmers they were, those three youngsters, an’ made friends fast an’ far until it seemed all the swamp might have been their parents, such was the love they were shown. Things were well then, until the sky darkened, an’ more and more boats started arrivin’ from the north.

Only a slow trickle it was at the first, but like when a channel gets carved into a sandbar, sure enough it became a flood. The marshfolk did their best to be the welcomin’ sort, but with more an’ more critters comin’ in, well, tensions couldn’t help but rise even as the days an’ nights cooled under the gloom an’ darkness. Folks were right stressed, most all the refugees who weren’t any way acquainted with marsh livin’. They took to buildin’ new homes an’ such up on tall poles, leavin’ the islanders scratchin’ their heads. ‘Course the way of it stuck fast, so’s we build all sorts o’ our homes such a way nowadays, but back then it was a new thing. An’ if there’s one thing you might know about us shorefolk an’ marsh creatures, but newness when we’s all lookin’ askance at the world can be a right concern. So’s tempers were bubblin’ an’ boilin’ over, when a new group o’ folks arrived.

‘Twas getting on to when the Found Eggs were findin’ their full feathers, and Gator had her claws full o’ their fussin’ and whining. ‘Twas a shorter process than she had most feared though, an’ soon enough the three chicks were full fledged in dark grey. They had taken to the water same as any resident o’ the swamps, an’ the shorefolk and creatures o’ the marshes were as fierce as can be in lookin’ out for the three as they poked about the mangroves for swim-holes and places to call their own, as all younglings do. Came a day when the three were out for a swim in the leeward waters an’ havin’ a mighty fine time of it too. In burst Water Snake, hollerin’ for them Eggs to come see, come see, a new boat had come in an’ Snake, he swore that that he’d spied some folk lookin’ mighty like the three o’ them. So up they all jumped an’ moved their tails back towards the docks to get themselves a look.

Water Snake had seen true, and a new boat had come into dock with another load o’ tired and ocean-worn folks who now were standin’ about the docks lookin’ lost as waterbugs up on dry land. Among them, Ripplewing spied two little birds bobbin’ up an’ down all nervous-like, an’ the hatchlings right away saw in them newcomers the same size an’ shape that they shared. They was about to hop on up to introduce themselves when Gull swooped down upon the lot, already grousin’ about more mouths for the night’s feedin’. The Found Eggs an’ Water Snake all looked among each other, for same as any o’ the islanders they felt a storm a’brewin’.

A hoary ol’ mountain goat shoved his way to the front o’ the refugees, an’ right off things went from bad to worse. Some remark o’ another had Gull up and flappin’ in his face, and them hatchlings looked to beat a hasty retreat, only in lookin’ about they saw that Placide was hoppin’ on up to the gatherin’ easy as you please. Bobbin’ low, she gazed up shyly at the newfolks, an’ offered up that she an’ her siblings might’nt be able to spare some provisions, an’ that just as the three o’ them had found their way to these shores, they’d just as soon provide to all the folk there the same kindnesses that had been shown to them.

There was a moment o’ silence as deep an’ wide as the eye o’ a storm, an’ then all the fury o’ the Mysts broke open upon them docks. There was shoutin’ to wake a toad mid-winter, an’ the two new birds that had caught the eye o’ the youngsters fluttered here an’ there, loudly proclaimin’ that the folk o’ the Saffrons had stolen their babies, an’ that somethin’ had to be done, it just t’weren’t right, an’ won’t someone think o’ them children lost an’ separated from their families. Gull screech and flapped, an’ soon enough the commotion drew out more o’ the islanders. Up stumped Turtle, but though they were a calm voice it was a rock in the floodin’ river, an’ the tumult continued on. Placide had shied back, joined by her siblings off on the side. Things looked as to continue until the stars shone, if the whole lot of them hadn’t been silenced by a bone-rattlin’ roar. Gator had heard the commotion, an’ up she came full o’ fire enough to shout the rest to silence. Right mad she was, mad enough to send Gull sprawling with a slap from her tail an’ admonishments to go an’ see that the new folk were found a bed an’ a meal, and liable to pluck Gull bare if she didn’t see to it quick-like. With Gull sullenly flappin’ off, she rounded on the rest o’ those newly arrived. T’was the way o’ the swamp an’ shore to welcome them, she declared, an’ all would be seen to an’ fed as could be managed. Those who would stay would stay, an’ those who were of a mind to continue on, none would keep them longer than they willed.

At this, the pair o’ songbirds started up once more, if a bit more quieter than previous, demandin’ to know where these little chicks had come from an’ where their parents were. Rene an’ Ripplewing puffed up as big as could be an’ glared at that, keen to be seen for the young adults they were, an’ Gator’s eyes lit with a sudden cold anger that was fit to freeze the lot. Before any else could happen though, it was Placide once again who hopped forward and fixed her eye on the newcomers. Their mama was right here beside them she declared, an’ fluttered up to Gator’s shoulder to make sure there weren’t no mistakin’ her words. Folk o’ the marsh an’ shore they were, no matter where their eggs might have been comin’ from, an’ full glad she was to meet other folk like her an’ her siblings, an’ she hoped they might stay an’ teach them some. But if they meant to ‘cause a fuss or try to get them to look unkindly on the one who had raised them, they could move on an’ leave the shores the cleaner for their passing.

Well, the silence that followed that lil’ pronouncement was something fit to behold. Them two newcomer songbirds looked as though they might shrivel up and slide right through them dock planks, whilst the rest o’ the crowd was a good ol’ fashioned gumbo pot o’ different faces. Most looked shocked, some abash, an’ there was a sprinkle o’ downright angry for spice. Not a one of ‘em looked fit to go an’ say something in front o’ Gator, though, who was looking right proudful at her youngster. Placide, for her own part, looked hard at all o’ em for a moment more before bobbin’ once an’ hopping down from her mama to make her way back to her siblings. She hadn’t gone more than a step though when one o’ the songbirds coughed and hopped forward, bowin’ low.

They’d stay, she said, at least for a spell, enough time to maybe teach their songs an’ stories to the hatchlings, if’n it was something welcome to them. An’ if her beak quivered a little, nobody paid it no mind for the bravery she was showin’, and the dockfolk close to who had gathered in to close gave off a cheer. Right on they was offerin’ the newcomer food an’ a place, an’ not a few was eager to swap stories of their own for a chance to hear tales from the north side o’ the Isles.

An’ so it was that a whole group o’ them refugees stuck ‘round in the mangroves, an’ even if some o’ those what had more bile than sense moved on a’grumblin’, nobody paid them any mind when there was feastin’ and dancin’ to be had, an’ tales told back and forth over a roarin’ fire. And the Found Eggs hung on every word as was said to them about their folks back northward, eager to listen an’ learn as any hatchling could be, with the whole of their folk to watch over ‘em.

An’ such is the way I tell it!