He Who Loves, Owns
You probably know about the Buddha, that when he was just a boy he was kept inside the palace grounds by his father, the King, who strictly controlled what he was allowed to see. This was because his father had heard a fortune-teller say that the boy might become a wandering monk. And that was something the King did not want to see! Naturally he wished his son to succeed him as king. The young prince was not supposed to come across any old, wrinkled person, nor one who was visibly ill, and of course he should never see any dead body. Whenever he went into the town, such sight were cleared away beforehand, for fear he might get the idea that life is not all sunshine and roses.
One day the prince, (Siddhartha was his name then) was playing on the grounds of the palace when a wounded water-bird fell at his feet. It had been shot by an arrow sent by his cousin, Devadatta, who was a great hunter. As the bird lay there on the ground, Siddhartha bent down and stroked the wounded bird, gently pulling out the arrow and tending the wound. (You can see what sort of feeling he had, even at this age.) Soon his cousin came, looking for the bird, and when he saw it in Siddhartha's arms he said, "That bird belongs to me." The prince refused to give it to him. So they argued about it, and finally decided to put the question to some wise men of the kingdom.
Some of them said, "The bird
belongs to Devadatta, because he saw it first and was
able to bring it down."
"No," said some of the wisest, "It is
still a living thing, and it should belong to the one
who saves life -- not to one who kills. Give the bird
to Siddhartha, for he saved it and he is one
who cares for its life." Then the others realized
that this was true and gave the water-bird
to the prince, who kept it and looked after it with
loving gentleness. This was only the beginning of the
Buddha's long relationship to the animal world.
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