A flock of sparrows was chattering with the tigidlu birds who lived in an ildag tree in the sacred city of Girsu. “We heard you bothered King Gudea of Lagash in his dreams? What was that about?” said the sparrows.
The tigidlu birds fluffed up their feathers importantly. “Ningirsu, lord of thunderstorms and the south wind has ordered Gudea to build his house here. In his dream the king saw us twittering in this ildag tree. Nanshe, the lady who determines fates, had told him that our twittering will not let him sleep until the shrine is built.”
A thunderous roar drowned out the shouts of the workers and the chirping of the birds. Enormous logs of cedar, cypress, zabalum, spruce and plane were being rolled in. The birds watched all the hustle and bustle in silent pride, knowing that they had had a role in it.
When the noise finally died down, a sparrow twittered excitedly, “Look, the nations of the world have also gathered at Girsu to help Gudea! People from Elam, Susa, Magan, Meluha…”
“Yes, it’s unbelievable how many have come with gifts for the shrine,” said the tigidlu birds. “Alabaster, copper, gold, silver...Magan and Meluha have even carried wood from their mountains upon their shoulders for him.”
“And we have seen Meluhan ships, bringing red carnelian and lapis lazuli, blue as the sea and mined in the eastern mountains, for Gudea’s temple,” chirped the sparrows, not to be outdone.
Over the building site gleamed Ningirsu’s emblem, a majestic lion-headed eagle, his enormous wings outspread, as if just descended from the heavens. The sparrows gasped in awe.
“That’s the great Anzu bird isn’t it?” whispered one little sparrow, younger than all the other birds.
“He is,” said the tigidlu birds. “He is the thunderstorm, his speech is fire, his breath is death.1 His wings cover the sky like dark clouds.”
The sparrow chick shivered in pleasurable anticipation, for she sensed a good story coming.
And this is the tale the tigidlu birds told.
LUGALBANDA AND THE ANZU BIRD
Shaiontoni Bose and Rohini Chowdhury
Lugalbanda, born in Kulaba of the goddess Urash, was the youngest of eight brothers. He lived in Sumer with his older brothers. All were heroes, all in their prime. Their king, Enmerkar, decided to lay siege to Aratta. The cities of Unug and Kulaba answered his call. Their armies covered the ground like heavy fog, the dense dust whirled up by them reached up to heaven2. Lugalbanda and his brothers marched with the troops. When they were halfway there, a sickness from the sky befell Lugalbanda and he was overcome. His brothers did not know what to do. So they left him in a mountain cave, and placed around him nourishing food and drink. Even his protective udug and lamma fled. For two days and a half, Lugalbanda lay suffering alone in the mountain cave. In the cool of the evening, he lifted his eyes to heaven and prayed to Utu, the setting sun. He prayed to Inana, the evening star. He prayed to Suen, the moon. He prayed to Utu, the rising sun. They heard his tears and gave him their gifts of life, strength and courage.
Lugalbanda rose up from his mountain cave. He was alone in the mountains, ‘in the faraway places’,3 with no mother, no father, no brother, no friend. “Who will help me?” he wondered. His mind, cleared from sickness, remembered the mountains were home to the fearsome Anzu bird. “I will do all I can to please him,” said Lugalbanda, “and when he is happy, maybe he can help me find my brothers aain.”
In the barren mountains where nothing grows the Anzu bird had made his nest of bright juniper boughs and in it he had settled his chick. Lugalbanda planned carefully. He made sweet cakes, kneading the dough with honey and then more honey. At daybreak, the Anzu bird called out to the rising sun, and stretching his wings, flew off to gather food for the nestling. The cries of the Anzu bird filled the mountains with terror, but wise Lugalbanda went up to his nest. He fed the Anzu chick fresh meat and juicy fat, and put the honey cakes into its mouth. He lined its eyes with kohl, dabbed its brow with cedar scent, and upon its head he placed a crown of bright cedar twigs. He hung up a roll of salted meat for the chick, gently scratched its head, and withdrew from the nest, to wait for the Anzu bird to return.
The Anzu bird was on his way home to his nestling, a live bull in his eagle talons, a dead bull across his shoulders. He cried out to his nestling, but received no answering call in reply. He called again, and still received no reply. Fear clutched at his heart. He cried out in grief. His cry of grief reached up to heaven. His wife cried out in grief. Her cry reached the cosmic Apsu, flowing beneath the earth. Anzu said to his wife, “Who has taken my chick from its nest?” They flew up to the nest with foreboding.
But they saw their nest had been decorated like a shrine. Their chick was safe in it. It had been reverently fed and cared for, its eyes lined with kohl, a crown of cedar sprigs upon its head. The Anzu bird was exultant. “I am the prince who decides the destiny of rolling rivers...If I fix a fate, who shall alter it?4 Who has done this to my nest? If you are a god, I will be your friend. If you are a man, I will make you invincible.”
Lugalbanda emerged from his hiding place. Awestruck but delighted, he flattered divine Anzu and sang his praises. “Yesterday, I came seeking your protection. I offer my greetings to you and your wife, and entrust my destiny to you.”
The majestic bird, well pleased with his praise, offered him many gifts. “May your arrows fly straight and true, may your helmet and breastplate make you invincible in battle, may your enemies never defeat you. May plenty be granted and riches be yours.”
But holy Lugalbanda did not accept these gifts, and the Anzu bird finally said, “I shall grant you the destiny you want.”
Holy Lugalbanda replied, “Grant me speed, let my thighs never grow tired. Grant me strength, let my arms never grow weak. Let me be welcome wherever I may go. I will have statues carved of you and you will be glorious to look upon. Your name will become known across all of Sumer and will add to the splendour of the temples of the great gods.”
The great Anzu bird agreed to all he asked, and led him back to his brothers. Lugalbanda walked on the ground, provisions and weapons in his hand. The Anzu bird flew above him. The bird saw the armies from the sky, Lugalbanda saw the dust they raised from the ground. The bird then said to Lugalbanda, “Do not tell anyone of the gifts I have given you, or the destiny I have granted you. Do not tell your friends, do not tell your brothers. And do not return: leave me to my nest, you stay with your troops. Heed my counsel, for good fortune causes envy.”
The Anzu bird flew back to his nest, and Lugalbanda strode forth to meet his brothers who welcomed him with joy, astonished that he had survived. They gathered around him, gave him food and drink, and asked him how he had survived the harsh mountains. But Lugalbanda kept the Anzu bird’s secret, and said only that he had hunted like the wolf, gathered wild acorns like the pigeon and drunk the cool water of the mountain streams. His brothers looked after him as tenderly as if he were a gamgam chick, till he was fully well again.
“So you see, Lugalbanda kept his word. The great Anzu bird is now known all over Sumer. Look how he gleams upon the banner of Ningirsu, and spreads his wings across the sky,” said the tigidlu birds.
The little sparrow sighed with contentment. “What a wonderful story,” she chirped. “I will tell all my friends and spread it far and wide, just as story birds should do.”
Story credit and copyright © Shaiontoni Bose and Rohini Chowdhury 2021
For those who came in late, this is how the Story Birds were chosen: A Chirpy Tale.
AUTHORS’ NOTE:
While searching for the oldest known stories in the world, we came across the stories of Sumer, the earliest known literary compositions in the world. These stories are also the oldest WRITTEN tales known so far. They are in Sumerian or Akkadian, set down in cuneiform, upon clay tablets that have been excavated all across the ancient Middle East, particularly Sumer in what is now southern Iraq. They tell of a vast and vibrant civilisation, with a complex religion and extensive pantheon. This rich literature also provides a picture of a sophisticated society with developed political and social systems, and a vast economic network across the civilised world. References to trade with Magan, now the modern nations of Oman and Bahrain, and with Meluha, the Indus civilisation, occur frequently. From the accounts we read, it seems to us that there was friendship between Sumer and the other lands, and the nations supported and helped each other. One such reference occurs in the description of the building of the temple to the god Ningirsu by Gudea, king of Lagash. This account was found inscribed on two massive clay cylinders which date back to between 2150 and 2000 BCE. The cylinders were found in 1877 by French archaeologist Ernest de Sarzac in a drain under the ancient ruins of Girsu; to de Sarzac is also attributed the discovery of ancient Sumer.
We were especially excited by the antiquity of the tales and the references to Meluha that we found. We therefore decided to tell the story of Lugalbanda and the Anzu bird, one of the oldest written tales discovered, and to use for our setting the account of the building of Ningirsu’s temple, which specifically mentions Meluha. Lugalbanda, hero, king, god, and later father of the epic hero Gilgamesh, first appears in stories which have been dated to the third millennium BCE. Stories about the lion-headed Anzu bird date back to at least the beginning of the second millennium BCE and are most likely even older. The clay tablets upon which were inscribed the encounter between Lugalbanda and Anzu have been dated to about 2350 BCE, a few hundred years before the building of Ningirsu’s temple. Adding to our excitement, we discovered that seals from Meluha had been found during the excavation of this site.
It is interesting to see that the classical requirements of an epic hero and his journey are already in place in the story of Lugalbanda. And so is the practice of soft diplomacy, as evident in Lugalbanda’s propitiation of the fearsome Anzu bird.
The ildag tree is the poplar, the zabalum is juniper. We could not identify the tigidlu birds and the gamgam chick, but we felt they merited mention.
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SOURCES AND FURTHER READING
With our spines “as straight as a scribe’s” we would like to acknowledge the work of the archeologists, Assyriologists, historians, linguists, and translators who have made these wonderful discoveries accessible to the world. Our primary sources are the following:
SEAL: Sources of Early Akkadian Literature: a text corpus of Babylonian and Assyrian literary texts from the 3rd and 2nd millennia BCE
Andrew George, Introducing the Mythology of Ancient Iraq. First in a lecture series, The Gods of Old: the Mythology of Ancient Iraq. Delivered at SOAS University of London, 12 January 2019.
Steve Tinney, Great Beasts of Legend: Anzu the Lion Headed Eagle. Penn Museum 2016-2017 Lecture Series.
Herrmann, Georgina. "Lapis Lazuli: The Early Phases of Its Trade." Iraq 30, no. 1 (1968): 21-57. Accessed May 2, 2021. doi:10.2307/4199836.
Wee, John Z. "Lugalbanda Under the Night Sky: Scenes of Celestial Healing in Ancient Mesopotamia." Journal of Near Eastern Studies 73, no. 1 (2014): 23-42. Accessed May 2, 2021. doi:10.1086/674797
The Epic of Gilgamesh; The Babylonian Epic Poem and Other Texts in Akkadian and Sumerian, translated and with an introduction by Andrew George, 2nd edn. Penguin Books, 2016.
Mumford, Lewis. The City in History: Its Origins, Its Transformations, And Its Prospects. Harcourt, Brace & World, 1961.
We also referenced Wikipedia for information on the excavation of the Gudea cylinders.
SEAL: Gilg. OB Nippur
ETCSL: Lugalbanda in the Mountain Cave, lines 20-34.
ETCSL: Lugalbanda and the Anzud Bird, lines 1-27
ETCSL: Lugalbanda and the Anzud Bird, lines 90-110
Lovely fun - and I really enjoyed the context... hmmm daddy seems cool - what happened to Big G??
I’m glad you set out and explained the sources you used, as well as the historical context. You even identified the modern names of the different trees referred to in the story. All of this added to the flavour of the already interesting story.
Was this the actual length of the original story, or is this an abridged version? I did think the young man in the story was going to tell one and all about the Anzu bird and get into trouble for doing so, but to my surprise it ended somewhat abruptly. I was expecting some plot twists, but it turned out the young man was true to his word.
Look forward to the next story.