In the vast, undulating landscapes of the American prairie, where the horizon stretches endlessly and the tall grasses sway in harmony with the wind, lived a humble field mouse. It was a creature of diminutive stature, yet possessed of a spirit that belied its size. His existence was a simple one, governed by the rhythms of nature, particularly the cyclical bounty and scarcity of the seasons. As summer began to yield to the cooler embrace of autumn, the field mouse busied himself with the crucial task of preparing for the long, harsh winter ahead.
The primary focus of his endeavors was the collection of wild beans. These small, nourishing legumes represented a vital source of sustenance that would sustain him through the frigid months when food became scarce. Day after day, he diligently scurried through the tall grasses, his keen eyes scanning the ground for ripe beans, which he carefully gathered and transported back to his cozy burrow, a subterranean sanctuary where he planned to weather the winter storms.
One day, as the field mouse was deeply engrossed in his foraging activities, a monumental presence disrupted the tranquility of his surroundings. A buffalo, a majestic behemoth of the plains, lumbered into the meadow. The buffalo, a symbol of strength and resilience, was an integral part of the prairie ecosystem. Its massive form was covered in a thick, shaggy coat of fur, providing insulation against the elements. Its powerful legs carried it with a slow, deliberate gait, and its imposing head was adorned with a pair of formidable horns.
The buffalo had come to graze, its primary activity being to consume the abundant grasses that carpeted the meadow. As it moved through the landscape, its broad hooves crushed the vegetation underfoot, and its rough tongue tore through the grass with relentless efficiency. This behavior, though natural for the buffalo, was a cause of considerable concern for the field mouse. He understood that the buffalo’s grazing habits would decimate the tall grasses that provided him with essential cover and protection from predators. Without this refuge, he would be vulnerable and exposed to the dangers of the open prairie.
Driven by a sense of self-preservation, the field mouse made a bold decision. He resolved to confront the buffalo and challenge its presence in the meadow. It was a David-versus-Goliath scenario, a tiny creature daring to stand up to a giant. The mouse, fueled by desperation and a touch of audacity, mustered all his courage and approached the buffalo.
In a voice that was barely audible above the rustling of the grass, the field mouse squeaked, "Ho, Friend Buffalo, I challenge you to a fight!" The words, though small in volume, were laden with defiance.
The buffalo, a creature of immense size and inherent indifference, paid no attention to the tiny voice that dared to address it. It continued to graze, seemingly oblivious to the mouse’s challenge. To the buffalo, the mouse was an insignificant speck, an annoyance not worthy of its consideration.
Undeterred by the buffalo’s initial disregard, the field mouse angrily repeated his challenge, his squeaks growing slightly louder and more insistent. Still, the buffalo remained unmoved, its focus solely on the task of consuming the grasses.
Frustration began to mount within the little mouse. He couldn’t believe that such a large creature could be so dismissive. In a final attempt to provoke a reaction, the field mouse let out a contemptuous laugh as he reiterated his defiance.
Finally, the buffalo, roused from its bovine complacency, deigned to acknowledge the persistent squeaks. It lowered its massive head and cast a careless glance in the direction of the mouse. With a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, the buffalo replied, "You had better keep still, little one, or I shall come over there and step on you, and there will be nothing left!" The buffalo’s words were a clear threat, a demonstration of its overwhelming power.
Unwilling to back down, the field mouse retorted, "You can’t do it!"
The buffalo, its patience wearing thin, insisted, "I tell you to keep still! If you speak to me again, I shall certainly come and put an end to you!"
Provoked by the buffalo’s threat, the field mouse defiantly exclaimed, "I dare you to do it!"
Fueled by anger and annoyance, the buffalo charged toward the mouse. Its massive hooves trampled the grass, tearing up the earth in its wake. The ground trembled with each thundering step, and the air filled with the scent of disturbed soil and crushed vegetation.
When the buffalo’s rampage subsided, it paused to survey the scene, expecting to find the field mouse crushed beneath its hooves. However, to its surprise, the mouse was nowhere to be seen.
"I told you I would step on you, and there would be nothing left!" the buffalo muttered, convinced that it had eradicated the tiny pest.
At that moment, the buffalo felt a strange scratching sensation inside its right ear. It shook its head violently, twitching its ears back and forth in an attempt to dislodge the irritant. The scratching intensified, evolving into a gnawing pain that grew deeper and deeper, driving the buffalo to the brink of madness.
Driven by unbearable agony, the buffalo pawed at the ground with its hooves, tearing up the sod with its horns. It bellowed madly, its roars echoing across the prairie. In a desperate attempt to escape the torment, it ran as fast as it could, first straight forward and then in erratic circles, its massive body a blur of motion.
Finally, the buffalo collapsed to the ground, exhausted and trembling. It lay motionless, its breath coming in ragged gasps.
As the buffalo lay prostrate, the field mouse emerged from its ear. Standing triumphantly atop the fallen giant, the mouse proclaimed, "Will you know now that I am master?"
The buffalo, though weakened and in pain, refused to concede defeat. "No!" it bellowed, summoning the last vestiges of its strength. Once again, it lunged toward the mouse, attempting to crush it beneath its hooves.
But the field mouse had vanished once more, its small size allowing it to evade the buffalo’s clumsy attacks. In an instant, the buffalo felt the gnawing pain in its other ear. The agony was unbearable, even more intense than before. It resumed its wild rampage, running haphazardly across the prairie, leaping high into the air in a desperate attempt to dislodge the tormentor.
At last, the buffalo succumbed to the pain and exhaustion. It crashed to the ground, lying still and lifeless.
The field mouse emerged from the buffalo’s ear, standing proudly upon its dead body. "Eho!" he exclaimed, "I have killed the greatest of all beasts. This will show to all that I am master!"
Standing upon the carcass of the buffalo, the field mouse called loudly for a knife with which to dress his game.
Elsewhere in the meadow, a red fox, driven by hunger, was hunting for mice. He spotted one and pounced with all four feet, but the agile mouse managed to escape, leaving the fox disappointed and frustrated.
Suddenly, the fox heard a distant call: "Bring a knife! Bring a knife!"
Initially hesitant, the fox dismissed the call as an illusion. But when the call came again, louder and clearer, he decided to investigate. He started in the direction of the sound, cautiously approaching the source.
Upon reaching the first knoll, the fox paused and listened intently. Hearing nothing more, he was about to turn back when he heard the call again, this time faint and weak, "Bring a knife!"
The fox, now intrigued, immediately set out again, running as fast as he could toward the sound.
Eventually, he came upon the massive body of the buffalo lying lifeless on the ground. Perched atop the carcass was the field mouse, its tiny form silhouetted against the sky.
"I want you to dress this buffalo for me, and I will give you some of the meat," the mouse commanded.
The fox, recognizing an opportunity to satiate his hunger, replied politely, "Thank you, my friend, I shall be glad to do this for you."
The fox diligently dressed the buffalo, while the field mouse sat on a nearby mound, overseeing the work and issuing instructions. "You must cut the meat into small pieces," he directed the fox.
When the fox had completed the task, the field mouse rewarded him with a small piece of liver. The fox swallowed it quickly, savoring the taste, but his hunger remained.
"Please, may I have another piece?" he asked humbly.
The field mouse, displaying a surprising lack of generosity, exclaimed, "Why, I gave you a very large piece! How greedy you are! You may have some of the blood clots."
The fox, desperate for sustenance, reluctantly accepted the blood clots and even licked them off the grass, his hunger gnawing at his belly.
"Please, may I take home a piece of the meat?" he begged. "I have six little ones at home, and there is nothing for them to eat."
The field mouse, unmoved by the fox’s plea, replied, "You can take the four feet of the buffalo. That ought to be enough for all of you!"
"Hi, hi! Thank you, thank you!" said the fox, grateful for the meager offering. "But, Mouse, I have a wife also, and we have had bad luck in hunting. We are almost starved. Can’t you spare me a little more?"
The field mouse, revealing his true nature, declared, "Why, I have already overpaid you for the little work you have done. However, you can take the head, too!"
Overcome by frustration and desperation, the fox leaped upon the field mouse, ending its reign of arrogance and selfishness. The mouse let out one final, faint squeak before disappearing, leaving behind the carcass of the buffalo and the lessons of Buffalo and the Mouse. The tale of Buffalo and the Mouse reminds us of hubris. The Buffalo and the Mouse tale highlights how pride can lead to downfall.
The moral of the story is clear: if you are proud and selfish, you will lose all in the end.