A Fable About Perseverance

There once was a fox who got caught in a trap.
She languished for hours.
Eventually the blood and sweat allowed her to wriggle out.
She began to limp back to her den through the wide forest.
Exhausted and weak she kept on.
One step, then the next.
Time passed.
Crows and hawks began to circle.
The fox found a stream and stopped to rest and drink.
A crow swooped down and perched above the fox.
"Tired and mortally wounded I see. Best to lay down and give up, get it over with." he said.
She ignored him.
"Hawks and eagles are circling. Mighty creatures. And do you hear that? Um-hm, the bears. They smell blood. Only a matter of time."
"Leave me be." she replied and continued on her way.
The crow was joined by other crows, carrion eaters all.
They jeered, belittled, and threatened the injured fox.
She began to despair.
But she kept walking.
Although she pained.
Although she ached.
She had to get back to her den and her cubs.
Time passed.
There came a point that she felt she could not go on.
And in that moment she heard a humming from the earth.
And she felt a vibration in her feet.
And through her body rushed a wave of healing warmth.
As if she drew strength from the Earth herself.
And she continued on.
Eventually she arrived home.
Over time the fox healed
She raised her pups.
They grew up and had adventures their own.

A Fable About Power

Long ago there was a wolf pack that lived in a hollow.

The pack lived peacefully in the hollow for generations.

One day a man came and camped outside the hollow.
The pack met in council to discuss his arrival.
After much debate the wolves decided to let him be.
He did not encroach on the packs territory.
The pack was well fed and prosperous.
As long as the man did not come into the hollow the pack would let him be.
Time passed.
The man built a home and began to farm the land.
He brought a family to him.
The pack met again.
They were concerned however their territory was untouched.
Their hunting undiminished.
The pack continued to thrive. They let the man and his family be.
More time passed.
Many men came to the clearing outside the hollow and set up a town.
The pack met again this time with much contention.
Some wolves urged an attack on the man-village.
Others advised the pack to move on, leave the hollow.
The Elder Wolf spoke last.
"We have lived in this hollow for long and long.
Back and back and back.
If we were to leave where would we go?
Is there a den Man will not come to in time?
We are not murderers we are hunters.
We kill to eat. We cannot attack the man-village.
Such aggression is not of the pack.
We live on as we always have.
Wolves will not break the peace with Man."
And so it was decided.
One night men surrounded the hollow and burnt it to the ground.
Many wolves died and few escaped.

The wolf has fled ever since.

A Fable About Fatigue

There once was a bear who lived in the far north.
There was a time when the bear had the love of a she-bear and cubs but that was long ago.
The bear was very old.
He had been alone for a very long time.
Every winter he would hibernate.
Every spring he would stumble out of his den confused and starving.
Every summer he would fish the salmon runs.
Every fall he would gorge himself on anything he could.
Repeat.
He had been doing this for many years.
He was tired of the routine.
Tired of the solitude.
Tired of it all.
But still he went through the motions.
Eating and sleeping, sleeping and eating.
He found no joy in any of it.
One day while he was foraging a pack of wolves came upon him.
There was a time when he could have fended them off.
But the bear simply sighed, laid down, and closed his eyes.
The wolves began to slowly circle.
Time passed.
The wolves moved on, satiated.
The bear was no more.

A Fable About Discipline

There once was a great tortoise
who was one thousand years old.
He lived on the beach.
Every hundred years he went for a swim.
And let the salted waves
carry him for a day
but no more.

It is thought
he knew something
we did not.

This was long ago.

A Fable About Boundaries

Long ago before the continents were sundered.

Before the deserts split apart and separated.

There was one desert, the First desert.

And on it prowled a pride of lions.

Golden, regal, and just.

The pride was lead by a chief.

And it was a happy pride.

They only hunted when they needed to.

Only killed that which they could eat.

And spent most of their time playing and lounging in the desert heat.

One day while patrolling his territory the chief came upon his brother.

His brother was covered in blood.

And around him were the corpses of an entire herd of oryx.

Shocked and dismayed the chief called out to his brother.

"Brother. What have you done. The pride is well fed. We are not in need. Why have you done this?"

His brother, with blood-mated fur grinned, and licked his lips.

"The Thrill brother. The Kill. The Power." 

And he raised his blood soaked face and roared up towards the heavens.

"Enough." the chief responded "You are sick. Seek help. You cannot go on like this"

And for a time the Sick One was quiet.

The chief tried to help his brother.

The elders tried to help him.

The pride as a whole tried to help him.

But the Sick One did not want to be helped.

And change must come from within.

Some time later the chief came upon his brother again.

This time the Sick One was standing over the bodies of a mother elephant and her two calves.

Before the chief could speak the Sick One began to growl.

"I am Death. My whim, my will, control these barren plains. All will fear me, all will come to know my power."

The chief shook his massive head sadly. "No, brother.

You are sick. You are lost. You have forgotten joy and the balanced path the pride treads.

You are banished. You are no longer welcome. No longer a part of the pride.

You are my brother. I love you but no more can I or the pride endure your sickness.

I hope you find healing somewhere. It pains me you could not find it here.

Goodbye."

And the Sick One walked into the desert alone.

A Fable About Rage

There once was a badger who liked things in a particular way.
His territory just so.
His burrow just so.
His meals just so.
His fur, just so sleek.
His claws, just so sharp.
He got up at the same time every morning.
He went to bed at the same time every night.
He was lonely but content.
Everything had its purpose.
Everything had its place.
One day a clan of squirrels came to live in the tree atop the badger's burrow.
He did not like this.
They scuffed his grass.
They scratched his trees.
Their incessant chatter filled his peaceful glade.
The squirrels tried to be friends with the badger but he ignored them.
He went about his routines pretending as if they were not there.
All the while something hot and dark began to grow inside him.
Over time a thousand little irritants stoked this little spark.
His anger, bottled up and never spoken, built into a great and consuming fire.
One day while on his morning walk a squirrel accidentally dropped an acorn on his head.
At that moment the fire was given shape, form, and deadly purpose.
It burned.
For some time the quiet of the forest was broken.
Coming from the shaded glade were screeches, whines, pleas, and groans.
Time passed and cruel Nature did her worst.

The badger wept.
His sleek coat now sticky and matted.
His bright claws now stained and dull.
Surrounded by tufts of fur, blood, and bone.
He met grief and shame and bottomless regret.

A Fable About Ambition

There once was a Sparrowhawk who wanted to be a Condor.
He wanted the respect of all the birds and the size to demand it.
He wanted to be known.
He spent all his time talking loud.
Bragging and boasting.
He seldom flew.
He seldom hunted.
He ate scraps from his parents table and carrion he found.
The other birds did not like him because he spent all of his time talking about himself.
Talking about what he would be.
Talking about the future he wanted.
But never living in the present.
Time passed and all his peers flew away.
To families and far away adventures.
He was left alone with the aging flock.
His was no longer young.
He was plump and weak.
His feathers losing all luster.
One day he came upon a Red-Tailed Hawk drinking at a stream.
"Where are you going?" the Sparrowhawk asked.
"Wherever the wind takes me." the Red-Tailed Hawk replied.
After a time the Sparrowhawk said "What is the secret?"
"It is good to dream. It is better to live." came the reply, echoing off the trees, as the stranger vanished into the darkening blue of dusk.

A Fable About Indecision

There once was a lion with no killing instinct.
He could track and stalk and pounce but he could not kill.
Every time he brought down an antelope or oryx he could not deliver the final stroke.
His mothers had forced him out, he was too old to be fed by the pride.
He haunted the plains slowly starving.
When his jaws were poised over his cornered prey his mind raced.
Who was this creature?
Did it have a family?
Was it relied upon?
Who would be left waiting?
Would it suffer?
Certainly it would suffer.
Would it suffer long?
What comes after?
For this creature and for me.
What is beyond?
Then he would look down at his prey in dazed confusion and let it free.
His thoughts were long as he paced the sun kissed desert.
And his stomach ached.
Thoughts are not deeds.
And something must be done.

A Fable About Heartache

There once was a dog and an old man that belonged to each other.
They lived next to a meadow that boarded a wood.
They were happy.
The old man would take the dog on long walks.
Across the meadow.
Through the woods.
Down gorges and up ravines.
Into creeks and rivers and ponds.
At dusk they would sit together on the porch.
And watch the birds turn in and the insects come out.
Watch the bats dart about feasting on pesky mosquitoes.
Watch the fireflies engage in their secret rituals.
From time to time the old man would reach down and scratch the dogs head.
Every once in a while the dog would lick the old mans ankle or nudge his leg.
But most of the time they sat in silence simply enjoying each others company.
One day the old man did not get out of bed.
The dog whined and barked and jumped on the bed but the old man could not be roused.
Odd smelling men came and took the old man away.
They did not take the dog, he was hiding under the flowers and tall grasses of the meadow.
As night came on the dog wandered into the woods to look for food.
The moon was full, bright, and beaming.
The dog came into a clearing and saw a coyote.
They looked at each other for a time then began to play.
Wrestling and jumping and yipping and howling.
Then they ran.
As they ran through the woods other coyotes began to join them.
The dog became part of the pack that lived in the woods.
He made many friends and played many games.
Smell the rabbit, catch the fish, and chase the tail of grandpa coyote.
The dog was happy. He became part of a new family.
Time past.
One day at dusk he came upon the meadow.
He looked out and saw the house that was once his.
And thought of the old man.
The dog felt a twinge in his chest.
A pain.
An absence.
Then he raised his head and howled at the moon yet to rise.

A Fable About Loss

There once was an eagle and a fox who fell in love.
In the beginning they spent countless hours together.
The fox would run and trot and leap.
The eagle would swoop and dive and glide.
They spent time in the forest where the fox lived.
They spent time on the mountain where the eagle lived.
And they were happy.
For a time.
One day the fox asked the eagle to stay in the forest.
The fox wanted cubs and a den to warm.
The eagle tried for a time.
But missed the mountain air.
And the tops of trees.
And the caress of the wind.
And the kiss of the sun.
And the shade of the cliffs.
And the open expanse of the bright blue sky.
The sky most of all.
Time passed.
One day the call of the sky became too great.
And the eagle flew off never to return.

A Fable About Apathy

There once was an eagle that lived in a nest.
His mother fed him every day.
He never learned to fly.
He never learned to hunt.
His mother kept on feeding him even though she should have stopped.
He should have been pushed out of the nest long ago.
He squatted and preened and became fat.
He had no desire to leave, no curiosity about the world.
He was content.
His most basic needs were met.
He had food to eat.
He had a place to shit.
He had a place to sleep.
He was content.
One day his mother flew off to hunt.
And did not return.
The day past and he became hungry.
Another day past and he became hungry and impatient.
"Mother! Mother! I am hungry! Where is my food!" He shouted.
But there was no one there.
The sky was empty.
Days past and his hunger became to much for him.
He looked down from his nest at the ground far bellow.
He saw a number of mice scurrying by the base of a tree.
He waddled over to the side of the nest and spread his wings as he'd seen his mother do.
"I will swoop down and feast on mouse flesh." He said to himself.

And fell to the earth.

A Fable About Sorrow

There once was a shark who was tired of swimming.
He swam slower and slower and slower.
Hoping one day he would finally stop altogether.
More often than not he let the current carry him along.
One day, as he inched through the deep he realized he was not alone.
He saw an old sea turtle swimming with him.
The turtle looked at him and grinned.
"Move, son." he said "You have to move."
"Why? There's no point..." the shark replied.
"Oh but there is my son. Glories to see, morsels to eat, places to go, and creatures to meet."

A Fable About Solitude

There once was a lean sleek fox who lived in the woods.
He had never met another fox.
He vaguely remembers sucking at his mother's tit but does not remember her face.
And that was fine with him.
The fox owned the woods.
He knew every inch.
Patches of sun to bask in.
Shadowed crannies for hiding.
Mulberry bushes with plump black berries.
He also knew where all the rats, rabbits, and wild birds lived. Easy pickings.
He knew the best climbing trees.
He was content.
The fox woke up every morning with a grin on his face and a hop in his step.
He didn't talk to anyone, not really. He had no one to talk to.
But who needs talk when you have everything you need?
One day as he was chasing the scent of some wild blueberries on the edge of the woods.
He loved blueberries. Yum.
Suddenly, the fox caught an unfamiliar scent on the wind.
Something he had never smelled before.
He went to investigate.
Carefully, he crept through the brush.
He came upon a fox family.
"Hello, young fox do you know the way through these woods?" said the father fox.
The fox stood stunned.
"Our den was dug up by man and our woods was cut down. We're looking for a new home." said the mother fox.
Still he did not speak.
"Help us please." said the cub.
"Of course." the fox grinned "I can get you through the forest but it will take days to travel through."
"Days we have, a home we do not." the father fox said.
And so they went.
As they traveled the fox took the family by all of his hidden and secret places.
He made sure they were well fed and showed them the sights to see in his woods.
He talked and talked. He was so happy.
After a few days they came to the end of the woods.
"Thank you for your help young fox. Your woods is quite nice but I fear man will be coming here soon. Would you like to come with us?" the father fox asked.
The fox thought. He had enjoyed his time with the other foxes. Loved it in fact.
But this was his home. The only place he knew.
"This is my home, I cannot leave, but I wish you a safe and peaceful trip."
They shared smiles, yips, and nips. The fox family disappeared into the brush.
The fox stood looking after them.
He had lived alone, content for years. Or so he thought.
As he looked after them he felt a hole open inside himself.
A longing he had never known.

A Fable About Hope

There once was a Caterpillar who lived in a forest.

He went to Caterpillar school.

He did Caterpillar things.

He had Caterpillar parents.

And he lived a Caterpillar life.

He was unhappy.

His parents did not understand him.

"Join the other Caterpillars" they would say.

But he could not, he did not feel like he belonged.

Restlessly he would slowly shuffle along the tree that was his home along his many legs.

Endlessly. In his free time.

Walking along his tree, to other trees, until he was tired and then he would return home.

One day, while on a walk, the Caterpillar met a Raven.

"Hello little thing, should I eat you up?" asked the Raven.

"Do what you will, I care not." replied the Caterpillar.

"Oh-Ho-Ho! A Caterpillar with vision, that is rare."

"I have only blurry vision sir but no desire for witty words. Eat or fly."

"A direct Caterpillar. I have not met a direct caterpillar in ages. Would you like advice Caterpillar, advise to lift you from your malaise?"

"Yes Raven."

"Climb high. Walk far out on to a branch. And change. You will know."

"Why do you say these things?"

"I want a challenge young one. A hunt."

And the Raven flew away.

The Caterpillar climbed a tall tree and scooted out onto a branch.

And waited.

Feelings built up in him.

The difference he always felt coated him, encased him, and eventually he hung.

Tight.

In a warm blanket.

Time passed.

And one day he sprang forth a lovely moth.

Cool and silent.

Black and white.

He felt alive and right.

But he was wary.

He thanked the Raven.

But he would not be eaten.

He vanished.

Into the forgiving night.

A Fable About Love

There once was a young badger who lived in the woods.
He did not feel included with the other badgers, he did not feel a part.
He always felt there was something different about him.
He did not get along well with other badgers.
He fought often.
He had few friends and no potential mates.
He was aloof.
The badger was not concerned with the things other badgers were concerned with.
Food and territory, these things did not concern him.
The thing he liked most in all the world was to go out at night and stare at the moon.
The moon he could identify with.
He desired to be free, up in the sky beholden to none.
One night he found a lake, a lake no other badger had visited.
And it was a full moon.
The badger drank deep of the clear blue water and looked up at the moon.
"Sweet moon, I have admired you from afar long and long. I have kept my love to myself longer still. I love you and if you have any love for me, answer me."
After the badger spoke the lake bubbled. And churned.
Out of the lake, out of the reflection of the moon in the calm waters a figure rose.
"I am here my love. I have looked down on you as you have looked up on me. I have loved you so. Embrace me."
The badger and the moon danced until the sun started to creep up the horizon.
"My love," said the moon "I must go, I have to tell you I can only come to you when I am full and strong."
"I will wait." the badger responded.
The badger and the moon danced happily for three days each month.

And it was enough.

A Fable About Instinct

There once was a lonely bear cub who lived in a cave.

He had no friends and was sad most of the time.

One day the bear cub was walking through a meadow.

Ornery and huffy he was.

He did not see the flowers.

Or feel the gentle touch of the sun.

Or hear the music of the birds.

As he lumbered a hare approached him.

Light and smiling and full of joy.

"Hello bear, it looks like you need a friend." said the hare.

"I do indeed but I am a bear. It is dangerous to be my friend." said the bear.

"Danger breeds the most effervescent friendships. Did you not know?" The hare grinned. "We shall be friends. I have decided."

And from that moment on the hare and the bear were inseparable.

They walked together.

Ate together.

Admired the woods, the cliffs, the flowers, and the streams together.

The hare taught the bear about quickness and talking and the love of others.

The bear taught the hare about patience and strength and silence.

Sometimes the hare rode on the bears shoulder.

Sometimes the bear would lope along as the hare sprinted ahead.

They were quite the match.

Time passed and one night the bear was hungry.

He went hunting.

He waited in the darkness of the woods, waited for movement.

Eventually he saw it, a darting shadow, and made his kill.

A quick swipe of his claws in the blackness.

He held his kill up to the moonlight.

It was the hare.

His hare.

His best friend.

The bear howled and howled and tore at his fur.

Overcome with grief.

"Why Creator! Why have you done this! My friend! My only friend!" The bear shouted.

"You are a bear, you are meant to kill hares." the Creator responded.

"He was my FRIEND!" the bear keened.

"I made you to survive. To endure. Procreate and perpetuate. If you want more than that you must be vigilant. Ever vigilant." the Creators voice faded "The choice is yours..."

The bear wept in the moonlight.

Wept.

And waited for the dawn.

A Fable About Image

There once was a heron that lived by a lake.
Every morning the heron would wake up and wade in the beach shallows.
Staring at its reflection.
All day the heron would admire the light gliding along its feathers.
At dusk the heron would fish.
Eating as much as it could.
The more fish it ate the brighter its plumage became.
This made the heron happy.
At night the heron would rest its beak underneath its wing and sleep.
This was the herons life. Staring and fishing and sleeping.
The heron had no desire to search for a mate.
The heron had no desire to interact with other creatures.
The heron loved himself and that was all he needed.
The eagle, the crow, the duck, and the loon took offense to the heron's loftiness.
He thinks he's so special. He thinks he's so superior. They thought.

One day a hunter crept through the woods towards the lake.

The eagle and the crow saw the hunter coming and warned the duck and the loon.

They did not warn the heron.

The heron was admiring himself when he was shot.

The heron forgot you see,

There is more than just me.

A Fable About Choices

There once was a bear cub.
A black, cocky bear cub.
This bear cub liked to eat.
He would gorge himself on meat and honey.
He would sit in his cave and eat and eat and eat.
This bear cub got fat.
He lost his edge.
Eventually he had nothing left to eat.
He had to venture out, to hunt.
But he had forgotten how.
His stomach dragged on the ground.
He made too much noise travelling through the forest.
He had lost his edge.
He went back to his cave and laid up.
His hunger ate at him.
His hunger became cunning.
He remembered how to hunt.
Hunt, bear cub, Hunt.

A Fable About Shame

There comes a certain point in a wolf cubs life where he has to leave his den.
He may be tentative about leaving.
He may not want to leave.
But at a certain point if he has not left his parents push him out of the den.
He ventures out and becomes comfortable with the world.
He has no notion of what the outside world is so he is not afraid of it.
He explores freely and enjoys the freedom outside the den.
He hunts, fishes, mates and grows strong.
But he's still a cub.
He learns as much as he can but there are still things he does not know.
He is open to mistakes because he does not know fear or caution.
He has no restrictions because he has no need of them.
One day the wolf cub encounters a bear fishing by a creek.
That is my creek! Thinks the wolf cub.
The wolf cub attacks. He does not know bears, has never seen one.
He is filled with the confidence of youth.
The bear bats the wolf cub aside like a stray horse fly.
The wolf cub's ribs are cracked and blood is matted in his fur.
He slumps back to his den.
His parents lick his wounds and leave him be.
He sits and does not leave his den.
The wounds are one thing, his injured pride is another.
How, he asks himself, could I have been so stupid? So blind to my own danger?
He does not want to leave the den, does not want to show his tail to the other wolves.
But time heals all wounds.
When he is well again the wolf cub tentatively ventures out of the den.
He goes slowly at first, but only at first, now he knows pain, danger.
He is cunning.
At some point he has become a wolf.

He has a scar but fur has overgrown it.

Caution, friend.
Do Not Forget.