One day, my wife and I were enjoying a quiet, beautiful evening at Central Park, New York, when she started to share a bird story that played out in our backyard a few years ago. As she finished the story, I was struck with how many lessons we could draw from it about the ways in which we can all pursue success in life and work.
This is the story, in my wife’s words:
“In our house, we had a bird feeder, and we observed that there were three kinds of birds that used to come there to feed. There was the giant size Treepie, then what we call the Seven Sisters, and the tiny Bulbuls. What we observed was that the biggest ones really could not figure out how the bird feeder worked. They would come, and after struggling a little bit, pecking here, not getting any access to food, they would go away. The Seven Sisters would come and make a lot of noise in trying to figure out how to get the bird feeder to work. But they could not either.
And waiting on the side were two Bulbuls who generally came in pairs. Once the Seven Sisters had disappeared, the Bulbuls arrived knowing exactly what to do and how to access the food. It was almost like a lesson — the smaller they were, the sharper their brains were.”
These are the lessons I learned from it:
First, size does not always mean genius. Something might be bigger as a brand, a budget, a company, a team, or a person in a position-of-power. However, they may not necessarily be the smartest ones in the room.
Second, you may have a certain solution or an opportunity that you would want to capitalize on, but it may not be the right time. You may have to wait for certain other people who may be more influential or have more active voices to play their part and, perhaps, clear the stage for you to enter, perform, and capitalize on that opportunity. So wait for the right time, like those two Bulbuls!
And third, if you’re the person of power in the room — the one with all the authority, budget, experience, and size — and you come in and try something you’re familiar with and it’s not working, don’t just assume that nobody else in the room will have any other solutions better than yours because you’re the more experienced one. Sometimes, the people who are the least celebrated, the least visible, may have ideas that they may only feel comfortable sharing when you’re out of the room. So think about what you can do to more proactively anticipate, recognize, honor, and draw out these quieter, unsung voices.
So there you are! These are the three lessons I learnt from this story, and perhaps you can see some more. And that may be the larger lesson we’re drawing here — that a story can be viewed from many different perspectives that help us draw out many lessons about human nature.
Are there other lessons you can draw from this bird story?
PS: I encourage you to share this newsletter with some people you are close to, who you think may enjoy this story. Then ask them — what lessons are they taking away from the bulbul? You may be surprised by how varied different people’s lessons can be, from this same story.
One reader, for instance, shared with me that the lesson he took away was that “most organizations are run top-down, and this prevents them from utilizing the talents of all”. Another lesson for him was that “we can learn so much from the animal kingdom which is ruled by the invisible hand of God — rather than trying to play God ourselves.”
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