An American Indian tells of a warrior who found an eagle's egg and placed it in the nest of a prairie chicken. The eaglet hatched among the brood of chicks and grew up with them.
All its life, the changeling eagle, believing itself to be a prairie chicken, did as they did. It scratched the dirt for seeds and insects. It clucked and cackled. And it flew in a brief, frantic flurry of wings, never more than a few feet off the ground. After all, that was how prairie chickens flew.
Years passed, and the changeling eagle grew old. One day, it saw a magnificent bird high in the cloudless sky. Hanging with graceful majesty on the powerful wind currents, it soared with scarcely a beat of its strong golden wings.
"What a beautiful bird!" said the changeling eagle to its neighbor. "What is it?"
"That is an eagle—the chief of all birds," clucked the neighbor. "But don't give it a second thought. You could never be like him."
So the changeling eagle never gave it a second thought. It died believing it was a prairie chicken.