by Bob Hartman
Elephant came tramping through the jungle. The earth shook, the trees shook. And so did poor Sparrow’s nest.
‘Too-tweet! Too-tweet! Too-tweet!’ cried the baby birds. They were startled, and frightened, and wide awake!
Sparrow was furious. ‘See what you’ve done!’ she complained to Elephant. ‘You woke up my babies with your tramping and your tromping and your trumpeting. Could you try to be a little quieter?’
KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM!
Elephant tramped over to Sparrow’s tree.
‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ he demanded. ‘You are nothing but a tiny little sparrow. I am Elephant – the strongest animal in the jungle. And I will do whatever I please.’
‘The strongest animal in the jungle? I don’t believe it,’ said Sparrow. And then, without thinking, she added, ‘Why, even I could beat a big bully like you.’
Elephant tossed his trunk in the air and gave a trumpet blast. He had never been so insulted. ‘Meet me tomorrow at noon, at the old banana tree,’ he roared. ‘We will have a test of strength and see who is the strongest animal in the jungle.’ Then he tramped away, angry: KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM!
‘What have I done?’ thought Sparrow. ‘Well, I had to do something. He was waking up my babies, after all.’
Later that day, Sparrow flew to the river, to take a bath and to fetch some water for her children. But just as she landed at the water’s edge, Crocodile appeared.
KER-SPLASH! KER-SPLASH! KER-SPLASH!
He thrashed his scaly tail back and forth across the water till Sparrow thought she was going to drown.
‘Stop it!’ she cried. ‘All I want is a little water for myself and my babies.’
‘Who do you think you are talking to?’ snapped Crocodile. ‘You are nothing but a tiny little sparrow. And I am Crocodile – the strongest animal in the jungle. And I will do whatever I please.’
Sparrow had heard this before, and she was about to fly away, when she had an idea.
‘The strongest animal in the jungle?’ she laughed. ‘I don’t believe it. I will meet you here, tomorrow, just after noon. And I will show you that I am more powerful than you can every hope to be.’
Crocodile laughed so hard, there were tears in his eyes.
‘I’ll take you up on that,’ he chuckled. ‘And if you win, you may drink from my river whenever you like.’
The next day, as the sun reached the top of the sky, Sparrow met Elephant by the old banana tree. She had the end of a long, thick vine in her beak.
‘For our test of strength,’ she said, ‘we shall have a tug of war. You hold this end of the vine, and I will fly off and grab hold of the other end. And when I cry “Pull!” we shall see who is the strongest.’
KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM!
Elephant tramped up and down with joy. He could win this contest easily! So he took the vine from Sparrow and she flew off to grab the other end.
But when she picked up the other end, she did not cry “Pull!”. At least, not straightaway. No, she carried the vine to the river, where Crocodile was waiting.
KER-SPLASH! KER-SPLASH! KER-SPLASH!
‘So you’ve come after all,’ he sneered.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And I’ve come to win! We shall have a tug of war. You take this end, and I will fly off and grab the other end. And when I cry “Pull!” we shall see who is the strongest.’
Crocodile chuckled and clamped his teeth onto the end of the vine. Then Sparrow flew to the middle of the vine – to a spot where she could hear both Elephant and Crocodile, but where they could not hear each other. And that’s when she cried, ‘PULL!’
KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM! KA-THOOM!
Elephant pulled – feet stomping, neck straining, trunk swinging up and down.
KER-SPLASH! KER-SPLASH! KER-SPLASH!
Crocodile pulled as well – feet splashing, teeth gnashing, tail thrashing back and forth.
They pulled for an hour. They pulled for two. But, pull as they might, neither could budge the other. At last, Elephant called through his aching teeth, ‘Sparrow, I give up! I never would have believed it, but you are every bit as strong as I am. From now on I will tiptoe quietly past your tree.’
Crocodile called out, as well. ‘You win, mighty Sparrow. From now on, you may drink from my river whenever you like.’
So Sparrow went home to her little nest. And when she told her babies what she had done, they laughed and clapped their wings and cheered, ‘Too-tweet! Too-tweet! Too-tweet!’ For their mother was now the strongest animal in the jungle!
Simple John
Once upon a time, there were three brothers who went off to seek their fortune.
The two older brothers were very clever. But the third brother was not clever at all. His name was John, and the two older brothers were not very nice to him. They made fun of him, and picked on him, and called him names like ‘simple’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘fool’.
On the first day, they came across a huge mound of earth, tall and thin and teeming with ants.
‘Ants are nasty!’ shuddered the eldest brother.
‘And they’re good for nothing but treading on,’ said the second brother.
But just as the two older brothers went to knock the anthill down, the third brother, John, stepped in their way.
‘No!’ he shouted. ‘Ants are nice. They are black and tiny and creepy and crawly. And they’re fun to watch. It wouldn’t be kind to knock their house down.’
The older brothers looked at each other and shook their heads.
‘Not very clever,’ one whispered.
‘Doesn’t know a thing about insects,’ whispered the other one.
But in the end they grew tired of arguing and agreed to leave the ants alone.
The next day, the three brothers came across a pond full of ducks.
‘Ducks are tasty!’ said the oldest brother.
‘Ducks are delicious!’ drooled the second brother.
But, just as the clever brothers aimed their arrows at the ducks, the third brother, John, stepped in their way.
‘No!’ he shouted. ‘Ducks are nice. They have flappy wings and webby feet and quacky voices. It wouldn’t be kind to kill them.’
The older brothers looked in the air and sighed.
‘Doesn’t know a thing about ducks,’ one whispered.
‘Nor good eating, neither,’ whispered the other one.
But in the end they grew tired of arguing and agreed to leave the ducks alone.
On the third day, the three brothers came across a bees’ nest tucked in the trunk of a thick, tall tree.
‘Look at the honey!’ said the oldest brother.
‘Now that’s good eating!’ said the second brother.
But, just as the clever brothers were about to light a fire and smoke the bees out of the tree, the third brother, John, stepped in their way.
‘No!’ he shouted. ‘Bees are nice. They are yellow and stripy and sticky and buzzy. It wouldn’t be kind to steal their honey.’
The clever brothers crossed their arms and scowled.
‘He’s starting to get on my nerves,’ whispered one.
‘Mine, too,’ whispered the other one.
But in the end they grew tired of arguing and agreed to leave the bees alone.
Later that day, the three brothers came to a castle. A castle with stone walls and stone towers and, standing inside, stone statue horses and peasants and princes. Indeed, the only thing that was not stone was a little bearded man who came to greet them.
‘Thank you for coming,’ he said. ‘Thank you very much! We shall have some supper and get a good night’s rest. Then tomorrow you must try to break the spell that has turned this castle to stone – and win for yourselves a great fortune!’
The brothers didn’t know about breaking spells, but they were hungry and tired, and so they accepted the little man’s invitation. They ate like horses and slept like logs. And, in the morning, it was the eldest brother
who chose to go first.
‘To break the spell,’ explained the little man, ‘you must perform three tasks. Before she was turned to stone, our Queen broke a necklace in the forest, and a thousand pearls were scattered across the ground. The first task is to gather up those pearls before sunset – or you, too, will be turned to stone.’
The eldest brother went out into the forest to look for the pearls. They were everywhere! Under rocks and ferns and fallen leaves. But, clever as he was, he only managed to collect a hundred before the sun set. So he was turned to stone.
The next day, the second brother went to the forest. And, even though he managed to collect two hundred pearls, at the setting of the sun he too was turned to stone.
‘What chance do I have?’ thought John, as he set off on the third day. ‘I’m not clever at all!’ And then he heard a sound in the grass below.
‘Hello, John!’ called a tiny voice. ‘I am the King of the Ants. You saved our anthill, and now we would like to help you. All my people are here – thousands of them! – and we will find the pearls for you.’
And so they did – every last one!
‘Excellent!’ said the little man. ‘For your second task, you must find a silver key, which the Queen dropped in the lake.’
Again, poor John didn’t know what to do. But just then, a big, brown duck flew overhead. ‘Don’t worry, John,’ the duck called. ‘You helped us and now we will help you.’
And with that, a whole flight of ducks plunged beneath the water, and came up again with the silver key.
‘One more task,’ the little man said, excited now. ‘But we must hurry, for the sun is setting fast. The King has three daughters, who all look alike. But the one he loves the most was eating a little honey cake just before she was turned to stone. You must find her and kiss her.’
‘No problem at all,’ buzzed a voice in John’s ear. ‘I am the Queen Bee. And because you would not steal from us, I will help you find the princess.’ The Queen Bee sniffed and sniffed at the lips of every stone girl in the castle, and finally she found one that smelled of honey.
John pursed his lips and kissed the stone statue, and immediately everything that had been turned to stone – including his brothers – became flesh and blood again!
And what was John’s reward? He married the girl that he kissed. And his brothers married her sisters. And that is how the three brothers found their fortune – with the help of the least clever brother of them all.
The Selfish Sand Frog
Sand Frog was thirsty. So he went to the water-hole to have a drink. He drank and he drank and he drank. And the more he drank, the bigger he grew. He drank so much, in fact, that he drank that water-hole dry!
Dingo, Goanna, and Kangaroo complained. ‘Hey, Sand Frog,’ they cried, ‘don’t be so greedy. We need water, too!’
But Sand Frog ignored them. He was still thirsty, you see. So he hopped away to find more water.
Soon he came to a billabong. He drank and he drank and he drank. And the more he drank, the bigger he grew. He drank so much, in fact, that he drank that little swamp dry!
The newts and the tortoises and the tadpoles complained. ‘Hey Sand Frog,’ they cried, ‘don’t be so greedy. We need water, too!’
But Sand Frog ignored them. He was still thirsty, you see. So he hopped away to find more water.
Soon he came to a lake. And you can guess what happened. He drank and he drank and he drank. And the more he drank, the bigger he grew. He drank so much, in fact, that he drank that lake dry!
The fish flipped and flopped around on the pebbly bottom. ‘Hey Sand Frog,’ they complained, ‘don’t be so greedy. We need water, too!’
But Sand Frog ignored them. He was still thirsty, you see. So he hopped away to find more water.
Rivers and lakes and streams.
Swamps and ponds and creeks.
Sand Frog drank the water from them all – until there was no water left anywhere! And, by that time, he was so enormous that the only place he could find to sit was on the top of a great mountain.
The other animals were angry. So they grabbed their spears and set off to find him. Eagle saw him first, and he led the others to the mountain where Sand Frog sat.
‘Give us our water back!’ the animals cried. But, once again, Sand Frog ignored them. He wasn’t thirsty any more. He was full. He was happy. And he was bigger than any of them.
One by one, the animals threw their sharp spears at Sand Frog.
Koala and Dingo and Bandicoot.
Platypus, Emu and Bat.
But each of them missed. Finally Kangaroo aimed his long spear and threw it. He struck Sand Frog in the side, and the water gushed out of him, down the mountain, and back into the rivers and lakes and streams!
The other animals cheered. They drank and swam and splashed about.
But Sand Frog hopped sadly and painfully home. He was little again, and ashamed for having been so greedy. In fact, he dared not show his face to the other animals.
And that is why, even now, sand frogs hide in the sand all day, and only come out to play in the ponds at night.
The Mouse’s Bride
It was an unusual family. An old man. An old woman. And a little mouse boy.
He was their dream-come-true. The old man and the old woman had no children of their own, but one day a hawk, soaring overhead, dropped the little mouse into the old woman’s laundry basket. And from that moment on, the old man and she had raised him as their son.
The little mouse grew – as children do. And soon he was no longer a little mouse boy, but a full-grown mouse man. And he wanted more than anything to find a wife.
‘I will help you, my son,’ said the old man. So, one warm night they set off to find the mouse a bride. The old woman waved them goodbye and wiped the tears from her eyes, for she feared that she might never see her son again.
They walked and they walked and they walked, their path lit brightly by the light of the full moon. The moon watched, and grew curious, and at last she asked, ‘What are you looking for?’
‘A wife for my son,’ the old man explained.
‘I see,’ said the moon. ‘Well, I would make a very good wife. I am bright and beautiful and round! Would your son agree to marry me?’
The mouse looked at the moon and shook his little head.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You are indeed bright and beautiful and round. But you are also cold and distant. No, you are not the wife for me.’
So they walked and they walked and they walked some more, under the shadow of a dark night cloud. The cloud watched, and grew curious, and at last she asked, ‘What are you looking for?’
‘A wife for my son,’ the old man explained.
‘Ah,’ said the cloud. ‘Well, I would make an excellent wife. I am fluffy and puffy and soft!’
‘Yes,’ agreed the little mouse. ‘But I have watched you, and you can also be angry and gloomy and very bad-tempered. No,’ he said, shaking his head again, ‘you are not the wife for me.’
On they walked, far into the night now, and the wind whistled around them, and watched, and grew curious, and asked at last, ‘What are you looking for?’
‘A wife for my son,’ said the old man again.
‘Then look no further,’ said the wind. ‘For I would make the perfect wife. I can be both gentle and strong.’
‘That is just the problem,’ said the little mouse. ‘You are one way and then another, and no one can tell which way it will be. No, you are not the wife for me.’
The old man and the mouse carried on a little further and, just as the old man was wondering if his son would ever find a wife, they came to a mountain.
‘Ah!’ said the mouse when he saw the mountain. ‘Now there is the wife for me. She is tall and proud and full of life. And I can trust her to stand strong and true, whatever happens. Mountain,’ he asked humbly, ‘would you be my wife?’
‘It would be a pleasure,’ said the mountain. ‘Now tunnel
deep within me and you will find my heart.’ The mouse began to dig. The old man helped him. And soon they came to a tunnel. And the tunnel led to a cave. And sitting in the middle of the cave was the most beautiful lady mouse that the little mouse had ever seen.
Together they went back to the old woman, who wept for joy when she saw them. Then the little mouse and the lady mouse were married. And they all lived happily ever after.
The Big Wave
The sea splashed gently against the sandy beach. The sandy beach lay white and hot before the little village. And in the little village lived four hundred people – old men and young men, mothers and grandmothers, babies and boys and girls.
Behind the village, green terraces rose like steps to a high, flat plateau. And on the plateau stood a fine old house, surrounded by rice fields.
In that house lived Hamaguchi – an old man, a rich man, owner of the rice fields and lord of the village below. With him lived his grandson – only ten years old, full of questions, and full of life.
One hot summer evening, Hamaguchi walked slowly out onto his porch. He looked at the village below, and smiled. It was harvest time, and his people were celebrating with music and dancing and bright lantern lights.
He looked at the beach beyond, cool and quiet and calm, and he smiled again.
But when Hamaguchi looked out across the sea, his smile turned suddenly to a worried frown. For there was a wave, a wave that stretched as far as he could see, tall and wild and fierce. And it was rushing towards the village below.
Hamaguchi had never seen this kind of wave. But he had heard tales about such waves from his father and his father’s father. So he called his grandson and asked him to bring a flaming torch.
‘Why, Grandfather?’ the boy asked, innocently. ‘Why do you want a torch?’
‘There is not time to explain.’ Hamaguchi answered. ‘We must act quickly!’ And he hobbled to the fields on the left of the house and set his crops on fire.
‘Grandfather!’ the boy cried. ‘What are you doing?’
Hamaguchi looked down at the village. No one was looking up at the plateau.