The Fox and the Crane

Told in English, Telugu.

Once upon a time, beside a quiet lake at the edge of a big green forest, there lived a fox and a crane.

The fox was clever and quick, with a bushy red tail and bright, sparkly eyes. He loved to play tricks, and he loved to laugh at his tricks even more. The crane was tall and gentle. She had long thin legs, a long neck, and a long, pointy beak, just right for catching little fish in the shallow water.

One morning the fox trotted down to the lake, where the crane was standing on one leg.

"Good morning, my dear friend Crane," said the fox, with a big bow. "Will you come to my home for dinner this evening? I am making a special soup, just for you."

The crane was surprised. The fox had never invited her anywhere before. "How kind of you," she said. "Thank you. I will come."

All day long the crane thought about the dinner. What kind of soup would it be? Would there be vegetables in it? Would it smell of pepper and ginger? By evening her tummy was rumbling.

But the fox had a little plan. He giggled to himself as he stirred the pot. "Let us see how my tall friend manages this," he said.

When the sun went down, the crane walked carefully through the trees to the fox's den. The whole place smelled wonderful.

"Come in, come in," said the fox. "Sit down. Dinner is ready."

Then he brought out two plates. Not bowls. Not cups. Two wide, flat plates, almost as flat as a leaf. He poured the soup onto them, and it spread out thin, thin, thin.

"Eat up!" said the fox, and he began to lap the soup with his tongue. Slurp, slurp, slurp.

The crane looked at her plate. She dipped her long beak into the soup. Tap! Her beak hit the bottom of the plate. She tried again, tilting her head this way and that. Tap, tap. Only a tiny drop came up. Her beak was made for picking, not for licking.

"Is something wrong?" asked the fox, trying very hard not to smile. "Don't you like my soup?"

The crane could have cried, or she could have shouted. But she did neither. She said quietly, "The soup smells lovely. I am just not very hungry tonight."

The fox finished his plate, and then he finished hers too. "What a pity," he said, licking his whiskers. "All that good soup."

The crane walked home in the dark, with an empty tummy and a heavy heart. She knew what the fox had done. He had laughed at her, and he had meant to.

Can you guess what the crane did next? Did she get angry? Did she stop talking to the fox forever? Let us see.

A few days later, the crane went to the fox. "Dear Fox," she said sweetly, "you gave me dinner. Now I would like to give you dinner. Please come to my nest tomorrow evening."

The fox licked his lips. "A free dinner? Of course I will come!"

The next evening he ran all the way, his nose sniffing the air. The smell was even better than his soup. Fish, and herbs, and something warm and buttery.

"Welcome," said the crane. "Dinner is ready."

She brought out two tall jars with long, narrow necks. So narrow that only a crane's beak could go inside.

"Eat up!" said the crane. She slipped her long beak into her jar and ate happily. Peck, peck, peck. Mmm.

The fox looked at his jar. He pushed his nose against the top. It would not go in. He stretched out his tongue. He could reach only the rim. He stood up on his back legs. He walked round and round the jar. He even tried to tip it over, but it was heavy and would not move. All he could do was smell the delicious food. Sniff. Sniff. Sigh.

"Is something wrong?" asked the crane gently. "Don't you like my dinner?"

The fox opened his mouth to say something clever. But nothing came out. Suddenly he remembered the flat plates. He remembered the crane's beak going tap, tap, tap, and how he had smiled. His ears went down and his tail drooped.

"Now I know how you felt," he said in a small voice. "It is not funny at all when you are the hungry one. I am sorry, Crane. I played a mean trick on you."

The crane looked at him for a long moment. Then her eyes became soft. "I did not want to hurt you, Fox," she said. "I only wanted you to understand. A trick feels like a joke to the one who plays it. But it feels like a hurt to the one it is played on."

Then she did something the fox did not expect. She went inside and came back with a wide, deep bowl, a bowl just right for a fox. She tipped the jar and poured his share of the food into it.

"There," she said. "Now we can both eat."

The fox ate and ate. And as he ate, he had an idea. "Next week," he said, "please come to my house again. This time I will make soup in a tall jar for you, and a flat plate for me. A good host always thinks about his guest, doesn't he?"

The crane laughed. "Yes, he does."

And from that day on, whenever the fox and the crane had dinner together, there was a jar for the one with the long beak and a plate for the one with the long tongue. And nobody ever went home hungry again.

So remember, little one. Before you play a trick on someone, think how you would feel if it were played on you. Treat your friends the way you want them to treat you. Can you say it with me? Treat your friends the way you want to be treated.

Goodnight, and sweet dreams.