Why the Bear Has a Short Tail

Long, long ago, so they say, the bear had a long, long tail. It was fluffy and brown and reached all the way down to the ground. But one winter’s day, everything changed.

The bear was walking through the forest. The snow went crunch-crunch under his paws. And who should come trotting along but the fox, with a whole string of fish in her teeth.

"Oho!" said the bear in surprise. "Where did you get so many fish, Red?"

Now, the fox had just pinched those fish from somewhere. But do you think she’d ever own up? Not a chance!

"I caught them myself," she said with a flick of her tail. "Down at the river."

"Teach me too!" begged the bear. "I want some fish as well."

The fox narrowed her eyes slyly.

"Easy-peasy. Go down to the river and knock a hole in the ice. Dip your tail in and just sit there. When it starts to nip, don’t move a whisker! A nip means a bite. The longer you sit, the more fish you’ll get. And then pull with all your might!"

"A nip means a bite," the bear repeated. "Got it!"

Off he lumbered to the river. Thump-thump went his paw on the ice, and there was a hole. The bear sat down and dipped his tail into the dark water. Cold! Brrr!

There sits the bear. The wind whistles. The snowflakes fall. And his tail starts to nip: just a little at first, then harder and harder.

"A nip means a bite," the bear whispers. "Oh, what a lot of fish I’m going to have!"

And from behind a little bush, the fox peeks out and giggles into her paw.

The bear sits for one hour. He sits for another. Now the moon has come up, and now the stars are twinkling. And his tail nips and nips and nips, and then it stops nipping altogether.

"Well, now that hole must be full to the brim with fish!" said the bear happily. "Time to pull!"

He braced his paws and gave an almighty tug!

CRACK!

Head over heels the bear went, tumbling into the snow. He looked round, and his tail was gone! All that was left was a stubby little tail sticking out like a tiny tree stump. The long tail had stayed behind in the ice, frozen fast.

"Oh dear, oh dear," sighed the bear. "Where are the fish? And where’s my tail?"

No fish, and no tail. And the fox’s tracks were already covered with snow.

The bear felt his little tail with his paw. Short. Funny. But warm.

"Oh well," grumbled the bear. "At least it won’t get cold now."

He plodded home to his den under the old fir tree. He raked up a pile of dry leaves, lay down and curled up into a ball. He covered his nose with his paw. And tucking his tail away was no trouble at all, because now it was so very small.

Outside, a blizzard was blowing, but in the den it was quiet and cosy. The bear gave a big yawn and fell asleep, all the way till spring.

And behind the fir tree, the blizzard sang him a lullaby, on and on and on.

Ever since then, all bears have had stubby little tails. And they never trust sly foxes anymore.