- The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf
- the Wolf and the Lamb
- the Lion the Ass and the Fox
- the Girl and the Jar of Nuts
- the Oxen and the Axle
- the old Wolf admires his Shadow
- the Frog and the Mouse
- the Jackdaw and the Fox
- the Nightingale and the Bat
- the Two Dogs
- the Boy who wouldn’t cry Wolf
- the Raindrops and the River
- the Frogs who wanted a King
- the Frog the Crab and the Snake
- the Fox the Mouse and the Grapes
- the Tortoise and the Geese
- the Birds and the Bat
- the Lion and the Hares
- Jackdaw and the Borrowed Feathers
- the Frog King and the Snake
- Jackdaw and the Pigeons
- Jackdaw and the Piece of String
- the Lion in Love
- the Wolf and the Sleeping Dog
- the Blackbird and its Wings
- the Snail the Mirror and the Monkey
- the Lion’s Breath
- the Monkey, the Goat, and the Sailboat
- the Astrologer and the Young Prince
- the Stargazer
- the Eagle and the Crow
- the Hippos at the Waterhole
- the Truce at the Waterhole
- the Goose that Laid the Golden Eggs
- A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
- the Frog and the Butterfly
- the Frog and the Flowers
- Another Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
- the Boy and the Snake
- Two Foxes and a Bunch of Grapes
- the Hare and the Hunting Dog
- the Toad and the Frog
- the Lion the Cat and the Mice
- the Fowler and the Woodpigeons
- The Tortoises
- the Angry Wasp and the Honey Bee
- the Camel Driver and the Snake
- Fall in the Garden of Eden
- A Monument for a Lion
- Two Dogs, One Bone
- the Tortoise and the Hare
The Tortoise and The Geese from Bidpai
- The Shepherd Boy and the Wolf
- the Wolf and the Lamb
- the Lion the Ass and the Fox
- the Girl and the Jar of Nuts
- the Oxen and the Axle
- the old Wolf admires his Shadow
- the Frog and the Mouse
- the Jackdaw and the Fox
- the Nightingale and the Bat
- the Two Dogs
- the Boy who wouldn’t cry Wolf
- the Raindrops and the River
- the Frogs who wanted a King
- the Frog the Crab and the Snake
- the Fox the Mouse and the Grapes
- the Tortoise and the Geese
- the Birds and the Bat
- the Lion and the Hares
- Jackdaw and the Borrowed Feathers
- the Frog King and the Snake
- Jackdaw and the Pigeons
- Jackdaw and the Piece of String
- the Lion in Love
- the Wolf and the Sleeping Dog
- the Blackbird and its Wings
- the Snail the Mirror and the Monkey
- the Lion’s Breath
- the Monkey, the Goat, and the Sailboat
- the Astrologer and the Young Prince
- the Stargazer
- the Eagle and the Crow
- the Hippos at the Waterhole
- the Truce at the Waterhole
- the Goose that Laid the Golden Eggs
- A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
- the Frog and the Butterfly
- the Frog and the Flowers
- Another Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
- the Boy and the Snake
- Two Foxes and a Bunch of Grapes
- the Hare and the Hunting Dog
- the Toad and the Frog
- the Lion the Cat and the Mice
- the Fowler and the Woodpigeons
- The Tortoises
- the Angry Wasp and the Honey Bee
- the Camel Driver and the Snake
- Fall in the Garden of Eden
- A Monument for a Lion
- Two Dogs, One Bone
- the Tortoise and the Hare
The Tortoise and the Geese from Bidpai
A tortoise lived alongside a flock of geese on the banks of a large pond. The tortoise got along well with his neighbours, although he took rather too much pleasure provoking the geese with sarcastic comments and vexatious remarks. He loved to hear them flap and hiss.
Then one summer a drought caused the pond to dry up. The grass and reeds withered and one by one the geese started to leave. Worried he would be left alone, the tortoise accused the geese of over-reacting. They should sit tight, he said. Autumn would bring rain; it always did.
But autumn did not bring rain and when the last pair of geese was preparing to depart, the tortoise suddenly changed his tune and begged them to take him along. “How would we do that?” they replied. “You can’t fly and you’re too heavy to carry on our backs.”
“What if you held this stick between you?” said the tortoise. “That way you could spread the load.” “And what about you? How would you hold on to the stick?” asked the geese. “With my mouth, of course,” said the tortoise. “You geese really can be a bit slow sometimes.”
The geese ruffled their feathers. “You’ll never be able to keep your mouth shut,” they said. “I will if that’s what I have to do,” the tortoise replied. So the geese agreed to take him with them, but they flew low over the fields to give him a better chance of surviving a mishap.
When the animals below saw a tortoise dangling from a stick carried between two geese, there was uproar. A crowd began to pursue the peculiar trio. “What you doing up there, little guy?” they jeered. “Something’s stuck between his teeth,” said one. “Fetch!” shouted another.
Everyone was laughing at the tortoise. They were all piling in, having their say, and the tortoise desperately wanted to set them straight, tell them what idiots they were. But he couldn’t open his mouth. If only the geese would fly higher and take him out of earshot.
“Higher, for God’s sake, fly higher,” he urged—or would have done had he not already found himself plummeting to the ground. There was time only to regret his terrible mistake before his shell smashed on the hard-baked mud. He was broken. He had opened his mouth.
A ripple of shock and guilt passed through the crowd of on-lookers. They began to argue among themselves, cast blame and declare innocence, but they soon found new distractions, new outrages to pursue. And then, as the tortoise lay dying, it started to rain.
© Richard Parkin, 2022
A tortoise lived alongside a flock of geese on the banks of a large pond. The tortoise got along well with his neighbours, although he took rather too much pleasure provoking the geese with sarcastic comments and vexatious remarks. He loved to hear them flap and hiss.
Then one summer a drought caused the pond to dry up. The grass and reeds withered and one by one the geese started to leave. Worried he would be left alone, the tortoise accused the geese of over-reacting. They should sit tight, he said. Autumn would bring rain; it always did.
But autumn did not bring rain and when the last pair of geese was preparing to depart, the tortoise suddenly changed his tune and begged them to take him along. “How would we do that?” they replied. “You can’t fly and you’re too heavy to carry on our backs.”
“What if you held this stick between you?” said the tortoise. “That way you could spread the load.” “And what about you? How would you hold on to the stick?” asked the geese. “With my mouth, of course,” said the tortoise. “You geese really can be a bit slow sometimes.”
The geese ruffled their feathers. “You’ll never be able to keep your mouth shut,” they said. “I will if that’s what I have to do,” the tortoise replied. So the geese agreed to take him with them, but they flew low over the fields to give him a better chance of surviving a mishap.
When the animals below saw a tortoise dangling from a stick carried between two geese, there was uproar. A crowd began to pursue the peculiar trio. “What you doing up there, little guy?” they jeered. “Something’s stuck between his teeth,” said one. “Fetch!” shouted another.
Everyone was laughing at the tortoise. They were all piling in, having their say, and the tortoise desperately wanted to set them straight, tell them what idiots they were. But he couldn’t open his mouth. If only the geese would fly higher and take him out of earshot.
“Higher, for God’s sake, fly higher,” he urged—or would have done had he not already found himself plummeting to the ground. There was time only to regret his terrible mistake before his shell smashed on the hard-baked mud. He was broken. He had opened his mouth.
A ripple of shock and guilt passed through the crowd of on-lookers. They began to argue among themselves, cast blame and declare innocence, but they soon found new distractions, new outrages to pursue. And then, as the tortoise lay dying, it started to rain.
© Richard Parkin 2022