The Fable of the Rhino and the Oxpecker

by Barry J. Northern

One morning, a black rhino looked up from the thorny bush he was stripping with his hooked lips, for he heard the distant rumble of hoofbeats.
He squinted against the savannah sun and could see only a cloud of dust with a vaguely darker kernel, for his eyesite was poor.
He set his feet to the ground and charged off to meet this new threat, for the bush was good, and the females were nearby.

An oxpecker, who had been working at a tick near Rhino's ear, flew up above his head. "Charge, my tick-infested friend, charge well. Don't worry about your wounds, for I will keep them clean for you."
Rhino called back. "Thank you little friend. I will be back as soon as I have dealt with my enemy."
Rhino charged, and soon shortened the distance between himself and the approaching blur. The hoofbeats grew louder, until soon they were as loud as his own, and the distance closed so that even Rhino could clearly see his enemy -- another male, like himself.

He called out to him. "Begone, my enemy. There is no room for you here." Then horns collided, and huge pointed heads glanced across each other forcing the pair eye-to-eye for an instant. Then the energy of their momentum was spent, and then their heavy bodies pounded the hard dirt beneath them in a slow cycle of stand-off and head-butting.
The pair fought for several minutes, but Rhino was the largest, and so, before long, his rival backed away. "You are the better beast. Perhaps one day I will match your skill." Then Rhino's enemy turned and fled.
Rhino chuckled, but it was only as he ambled back to his bush that he began to feel his injuries.

The Fable of the Rock Ptarmigan

by Barry J. Northern

High upon a rocky outcrop, a Rock Ptarmigan shed its last white feather and so his thoughts turned to finding a lady. Now Rock Ptarmigan men are proud of their fine feathered feet, and their thick plumage, which changes colour with the seasons, but most of all each is proud of his comb, for it is with the quality of his comb that he attracts a lady.

Rock worked his way down the outcrop towards his favourite spring, thankful that winter's touch no longer hardened the puddle from which he drank. As he bent down he regarded his comb's reflection. He thought it too small to impress or intimidate, and sighed, for he derived his greatest pleasure from the praise of others, and without it he knew he would strive for nothing beyond foraging for buds and catkins, and drinking from his favourite spring.

As Rock worked his way farther down the outcrop, he met a young man parading in front of a lady. Both were younger than he, and Rock was gratified when the man, taking one look at his comb, immediately stood aside and bowed.
“My Lord, I will continue to court this young lady's affections only by your leave.”
Rock smiled, and so flattered was he by the earnest young man's concession that he too bowed and said, “I grant you my leave, young sir.” His pride was further bolstered by the favouring look the young lady gave his comb as he passed by, and he also fancied he saw a flicker of disappointment pass across her delicate features.
Farther on down the slope, Rock spotted a less refined young man leaping around in front of a group of three women, crying, “Look at my comb, is it not the finest comb you ever saw? My ladies, which of you will be lucky enough to be mine I wonder?”

Rock smiled at the ladies' barely concealed laughter. “At least I am not as vain as that immodest youth,” he thought,and fluffed his feathers. Then he laughed at himself, for he was wise enough to realise that the very thought made him, in fact, vain of his own superior modesty.
He continued on down the mountainside, confident of finding good fighting and fine ladies to be won, and noted with amusement how his spirits had risen as he...

The Fable of the Honey Bee

by Barry J. Northern

A honey bee worker emerged from her brood cell and immediately set about cleaning, for her new baby sister would need the nursery soon.
The Queen Bee inspected her work. "One has not cleaned it well enough. One must try harder."
Princess was mortified, for she only desired to be worthy in her mother's eyes. From then on she vowed to work harder than any other worker bee in the hive.

Princess and her sisters were eager to see the outside world and smell the flowers, for the source of nectar and pollen must be wonderous indeed, but it is the way of honey bee workers to attend to many tasks before they are old enough to go out and forage.
Firstly, Princess nursed her new larval sister, feeding it her own jelly. She enjoyed watching her sister grow, knowing that her elder sister had done the same for her. Before long it was time to ween the new princess onto honey and pollen, and the flow of jelly turned to one of wax.
After that, Princess left the brood cell and worked hard to impress her mother. She and the others used Princess' wax to build the combs and seal new honey within its cells.
Some of her sisters became attendants to the Queen. Princess was disappointed to not have been chosen, but she worked hard, and contented herself with dreams of flowers.
One day, an old forager came home with a substance from the flowers that Princess had never seen before. She took it in her hands.
"It is sticky."

The Fable of the Kangaroo

by Barry J. Northern

A young Joey peered out of his mother's pouch for the first time. His eyes were wide with wonder as he gazed out into the world, for it was far larger than he had ever imagined nestled in the warmth and safety of the pouch.
Out on the plains, some fascinating creatures were jumping around. "What are those, Mummy?"
Flyer looked down at her Joey. "Oh, my son, you are out of the pouch. I think you are too small to come out yet. Why don't you go back inside?"
"All right, Mummy," said Joey, and settled back down into the warm pouch.
The next day, Joey woke up remembering dreams of the open plains and the jumping creatures, and so he poked his head out again. The creatures were real -- he had not imagined them. "What are those, Mummy?"
Flyer looked down. "Oh, my son, you are out again."
One of those jumping creatures had a small head in its belly. Joey laughed. "They are creatures just like us aren't they?"
"Yes dear."
One of the other Joeys jumped out of its mother's pouch and sprang about around her in delighted circles.
Joey laughed again. "Look, Mummy, the other children are playing. Can I come out too?"
"Oh, my son, those children are bigger than you. You are so small. I think you should go back inside."
"But why?"
"It's not safe, my son."
"Why?"
"The world is not a safe place."
"Why?"
"You are too young to understand my son, please go back inside. You can come out when you're older."
Joey watched the other children playing around on the plains. It looked like fun, and he couldn't see anything unsafe, but he was a good boy, so he went back inside.

The Fable of the Magpie

by Barry J. Northern

There was once a magpie who built a nest for himself and his wife. It was a good nest, and they were happy. In their first two Springs they raised healthy clutches, and were proud each time their children left the nest. Yet Husband was not content.
"Will each year be the same as this?" he asked his wife.
"Are you not happy then, Husband?"
But he only said, "I am, my love," for he did not wish to upset his wife.

Later that day, Husband flew abroad searching for something with which to adorn his nest, for it was dull to his eyes, and he wished to improve it. He chanced upon a shiny object, and though he knew not what it was, he admired it, and so flew down to retrieve it in his beak.
Back at the nest, his wife looked up at Husband's return. "What have you there, Husband?"
He saw his own love for the shiny object reflected in her eyes. "Something to adorn our nest, my love," he said, and worked the object into the walls of their nest. He stood back to admire it, and said. "Now we can truly say our lot is improved."
Husband and Wife were pleased with their new decoration, but as time passed they grew accustomed to its beauty until they no longer noticed it.
One day, Husband flitted to the edge of the nest, and said to Wife. "I will fly abroad once more and look for something else with which to adorn our nest."
Husband soon came back with another shiny object, and for a time it made them both happy. Before long, however, they grew used to it as before, and so Husband once again flew abroad to find something else.
This continued until the next Spring, when the urge to make ready their nest for the new clutch came upon Wife. She looked around the nest, and said. "My love, our nest is beautiful, but there is no room for our clutch this year."