Deep within the embrace of a verdant woodland, nestled amidst ancient trees and sun-dappled glades, lay a tranquil pond. This serene body of water, a haven of life and quiet beauty, was more than just a pool; it was an ecosystem, a stage for nature’s dramas, and home to a vibrant community. The pond, cool and inviting, was a central figure in the lives of its inhabitants, and its character defined the rhythm of their days.
The pond’s edges were meticulously adorned with ranks of bulrushes, their tall, slender stalks standing like silent sentinels. These bulrushes, with their graceful, swaying movements, danced in harmony with the gentle breezes that whispered through the woods. Their crisp rustling created a subtle, natural symphony, a constant reminder of the ever-present wind. The bulrushes provided not only visual appeal but also crucial shelter and nesting sites for various creatures, contributing to the pond’s biodiversity.
In the shallow bays of the pond, a different kind of flora flourished. Fleets of broad water lily leaves floated serenely on the surface, their circular forms creating a mosaic of green against the water’s blue canvas. These lily pads, like miniature islands, offered resting places for insects, amphibians, and even small birds. Their presence also served a vital ecological function, providing shade that helped regulate the water’s temperature and prevent excessive algal growth. The Frogs and the Crane story is about to unfold around this pond.
Beneath the water’s surface, a world of intricate connections and hidden lives thrived. Among the bulrushes, reeds, and the quiet depths, a large tribe of Frogs made their home. This amphibian community was a diverse collection of individuals, each with its unique characteristics and role within the pond’s ecosystem. From the smallest tadpoles to the largest bullfrogs, each played a part in the pond’s delicate balance.
As the warm nights of spring descended upon the woods, the voices of the Frogs rose in a cheerful chorus. This nightly serenade was a testament to the vitality and vibrancy of the pond’s life. It was a symphony of croaks, trills, and ribbits, a natural orchestra conducted by the changing seasons. The frogs are very loud, which will attract unwanted visitors in Frogs and the Crane.
Some voices were low and deep, resonating with a gravitas that spoke of experience and age. These were the oldest and wisest of the Frogs, or at least, they were old enough to have learned a thing or two about the world. Their deep croaks served as a grounding presence in the chorus, a reminder of the pond’s long history and the cycles of life and death that had played out within its waters.
Other voices were high and shrill, filled with youthful energy and perhaps a hint of impatience. These were the voices of the little Frogs, the younger members of the tribe who did not like to be reminded of the days when they had tails and no legs. Their eagerness to participate in the nightly chorus reflected their exuberance and their desire to assert their place in the pond’s community.
Amidst the collective chorus, individual voices emerged, each striving to be heard above the others.
"Kerrump! kerrump! I’m chief of this pond!" croaked a very large bullfrog, his voice booming with authority. He sat regally in the shade of a water lily leaf, his massive form casting a shadow upon the water. His proclamation was a challenge, a declaration of dominance intended to assert his position as the leader of the frog community.
"Kerrump! kerrump! I’m chief of this pond!" replied a hoarse voice from the opposite bank, echoing the bullfrog’s boast. This challenger, equally determined to claim leadership, added his voice to the fray, creating a competitive atmosphere within the pond.
"Kerrump! kerrump! I’m chief of this pond!" boasted a third old Frog from the furthest shore of the pond, further complicating the power dynamics. This third contender added another layer of tension to the situation, transforming the pond into a battleground for dominance.
Unbeknownst to the Frogs, their boasts and claims of leadership had not gone unnoticed. A long-legged white Crane, a creature of elegance and predatory skill, was standing nearby, well hidden by the coarse grass that grew at the water’s edge. The Crane, with its keen eyesight and lightning-fast reflexes, was a formidable hunter, and the pond’s inhabitants were potential prey.
The Crane was very hungry that evening, his stomach growling with anticipation. When he heard the deep voice of the first Bullfrog, his senses sharpened, and his focus narrowed. He stepped briskly up to him, his movements precise and deliberate, and made a quick pass under the broad leaf with his long, cruel bill. The tranquility of the pond was about to be shattered.
The old Frog, caught off guard, gave a frightened croak, his voice filled with panic. He kicked violently in his efforts to get away, his powerful legs propelling him through the water. Over the quiet pond, splash! splash! went the startled little Frogs into deep water, their peaceful existence disrupted by the sudden intrusion of danger.
The Crane almost had him, his bill closing in on his intended meal. But just as the Crane was about to succeed, something cold and slimy wound itself about one of his legs. He drew back for a second, surprised and momentarily deterred, and the Frog got safely away! The pond is dangerous, the Frogs and the Crane story is trying to show that.
But the Crane did not lose his dinner after all, for about his leg was curled a large black water snake, its scales glistening in the fading light. The snake, an opportunistic predator, had seized the chance to claim its own meal. The Crane, momentarily forgetting the Frog, now found himself the target of another predator.
The Crane rested awhile on one leg, recovering from the encounter and assessing the situation. The first Frog was silent, his near-death experience having instilled in him a newfound appreciation for caution. But from the opposite bank, the second Frog, oblivious to the danger, croaked boastfully:
"Kerrump! kerrump! I’m chief of this pond!"
The Crane began to be hungry again, his predatory instincts reawakened. He went round the pond without making any noise, his movements silent and stealthy. He pounced upon the second Frog, who was sitting up in plain sight, swelling his chest with pride, for he really thought now that he was the sole chief of the pond. The leadership is not worth dying for, the tale of Frogs and the Crane shows.
The Crane’s head and most of his long neck disappeared under the water, his focus entirely on capturing his prey. All over the pond the little Frogs went splash! splash! into the deepest holes to be out of the way, their fear palpable.
Just as he had the Frog by one hind leg, the Crane saw something that made him let go, flap his broad wings and fly awkwardly away to the furthest shore. It was a mink, with his slender brown body and wicked eyes, and he had crept very close to the Crane, hoping to seize him at his meal! The Crane, once the hunter, now became the hunted.
So the second Frog got away too; but he was so dreadfully frightened that he never spoke again, his desire for leadership extinguished by the brush with death.
After a long time, the Crane got over his fright and he became very hungry once more. The pond had been still so long that many of the Frogs were singing their pleasant chorus, and above them all there boomed the deep voice of the third and last Bullfrog, saying:
"Kerrump! kerrump! I’m chief of this pond!"
The Crane stood not far from the boaster, and he determined to silence him once for all. The next time he began to speak, he had barely said "Kerrump!" when the Crane had him by the leg. He croaked and struggled in vain, and in another moment he would have gone down the Crane’s long throat. But just then a Fox crept up behind the Crane and seized him! The Crane let go the Frog and was carried off screaming into the woods for the Fox’s supper. So the third Frog got away; but he was badly lamed by the Crane’s strong bill, and he never dared to open his mouth again.
The moral of the story of Frogs and the Crane is clear: It is not a wise thing to boast too loudly. The consequences can be dire.
