08 The Fox and the Grapes

8. THE FOX AND THE

GRAPES

By Tony Payne

One hot day at the end of summer

a fox trotted along the dusty path

to a farm, listening out for other

creatures and sniffing the air, as

foxes do.

It was getting late, and after a long

day the sun looked a little red in

the face and had dropped out of

sight behind a bush.

It was the time of day that the

fox liked best. The farmer’s work

was finished. He had taken off his

muddy boots and gone inside for

tea. The fox only showed himself

when the farmer had left his boots

outside. Then, if he came running

after the fox with his gun - as

farmers do - he would first have to

sit on the step, put his boots back

on again, and the fox would have

plenty of time to run away.

The fox is certainly very clever, and

handsome too, but no one knows

this better than the fox himself.

He would look at his reflection for

hours admiring his beautiful red

coat with its snow white bib. He

would look at his smart black legs,

which matched his sleek black ears.

And his sleek black ears matched

his shiny black nose, which looked

exactly like a small polished

pebble.

But best of all, he thought, was his

glorious bushy tail, like a big, soft

paintbrush dipped in whitewash.

The farmer locked in the hens at

night, and the rabbits and geese,

and he shooed the ducks onto their

little island in the middle of the

duck pond so that the clever fox

could not get them. He knew the

fox hated swimming.

But the fox did not only eat chick￾ens and rabbits and ducks and

geese, though he would put them

all on the menu given half a

chance. If he couldn’t get into the

hen house, and he couldn’t swim

to the duck island, and if the geese

made a fuss and rattled their beaks

at him - as geese do - then there

was always something else to eat.

There were slugs and grasshoppers and mice and worms and frogs

and eggs and big meaty bones the

farmer put out with the rubbish.

And tonight there was fruit!

The fox looked up at a huge bunch

of juicy grapes hanging above his

head. He was very thirsty. He could

imagine the sweet, delicious juice

running down his chin.

But he couldn’t reach them. He was

clever, though, wasn’t he?Everyone

said so, and the fox was used to

getting what he wanted – so he

would take a run at it, and…jump!

Missed!

He jumped again…And again. He

leaped and hopped and bounced

and somersaulted. But the juicy

grapes were always just out of

reach.

The fox stopped at last, hot and

panting.

'Haaa well!' he said to himself.

'The grapes don’t look that juicy

and I just know they will be as

bitter as lemons. Phooey! Who

wants to eat sour grapes!'

And the fox walked slowly along

the dusty path back to his den with

his nose in the air and his tail

between his legs - as hungry,

disappointed foxes do.

Sometimes, when we can’t get

what we want, we pretend we

never wanted it anyway.