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'd descended the slope. Indeed, it was a good time of year to be a fine Scottish Rock Ptarmigan. The Fable of the Rock Ptarmigan by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here. Music by Tanya Tomkins and Eric Zivian from the album, Beethoven Piano and Cello Works, track 17 Sonata in D Major op. 102 no. 2 Allegro fugato, and provided by magnatune.com

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." "Yes," said the old worker, "we need you to spread it around the hive entrance. It helps keep the hive clean." "Right away!" Princess rushed to the entrance, eager for her first glimpse at the outside world, marvelling at what other amazing things the flowers might provide. When she got to the entrance, her sisters were busy plastering the sticky stuff around, and such was the intensity of their activity, she felt compelled to join them in earnest and did not stop to glance at the bright outside. As Princess worked she became hot, and she noticed the others around her becoming sluggish. A large entrance guard bee came up to her. "The propolis is helping, but we need more water to cool the hive. Go out and fetch some from the leaves outside the entrance." Princess swallowed. "But I've never been outside before." The guard laughed. "There is nothing to it. Just remember to stay away from any stranger bees, for if you pick up their smell my brothers might not let you back in." As Princess walked towards the entrance, she became concerned about the effects of the heat. The mortuary bees could barely lift the dead away from the hive. The feeders struggled to carry honey to the drones in their crops. Worst of all, the fanning bees' wings were flapping too slowly to cool the hive. By the time Princess reached the entrance, her only thought was to collect water, and so on her first foray out into the world, she did not stop to look at the glorious sun in the blue sky, nor at the wide green leaves around the hive, nor the stretches of blue flowers carpeting the floor beneath her. Thence forth, whenever Princess left the hive, first for more water, and as she grew older and flew further, for more pollen and nectar, her thoughts were always bent on the list of tasks she had yet to do. She never once stopped to enjoy the fruit her hard work had wrought. One day, she flew further than ever before, and she began to struggle against the weight of her old body, and feel a creaking in her wings. She landed on a large rose and set about collecting nectar as she had always done. She had heard tell of the beautiful rose, but even so, as soon as her crop was full, she headed straight back. The entrance guard bees waved her through, and when she landed a young princess came and took the nectar and pollen from her. When the worker had emptied Princess' crop she felt no lighter. She tried to move, but she found she could not. A mortuary bee glanced her way a couple of times, and when Princess lay down, she came over. "It is almost your time." "No." "You have served the hive well. We honour you. You will rest among the flowers." "I wish to see them." Either her voice had grown weak, or the mortuary bee ignored Princess, for she did not answer her, and walked away to find help. As Princess lay there, she spotted a young worker hurrying out towards the entrance, and remembered the days of her youth. The hive was cold today. Princess smiled when she saw the young worker pause for a moment on the lip of the hive. Even the sun was cold. The young worker was still there, looking up at the sky with wonder in her eyes. The light was fading. The young worker flew out. Princess hoped she would stop to smell the rose. The Fable of the Honey Bee by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here. Music by Eileen Hadidian and Natalie Cox from the album, Dolce Musica, tracks 17 (Star of County Down) and 12 (Lord Gallway's Lamentation), and provided by magnatune.com

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 next day Joey woke up remembering dreams of playing with the other children, but he also remembered what his mother had said, so he stayed inside. After a while, though, he heard the sounds of children playing. He peered out. There they were, having fun, jumping around. He watched them for a while. "Mummy?" "Yes, my son?" "The other children don't look bigger to me." "I think you are still too small to go outside, dear." "But I--" "No arguments. You can go out when you're older. It's not safe." Many weeks passed, but still Flyer did not let Joey play with the other children, and she did have a reason. Once, many years ago, she had heard about a pack of dingoes that had snatched a child away. She had never seen a dingo, but she knew they were fearsome creatures, for everyone said so, and she had vowed that she would always protect her children from such foul creatures. One day, Joey looked out and saw the children playing, and without asking his mother, he leapt out and landed on the ground at her feet. Flyer gasped, but then she saw how big her son had grown, and she felt it in the sudden absence of his weight. "Oh, my son, you are quite big now. I think you are old enough to go out. Remember this though. If you see any strange creatures, just jump back to me as fast as you can. All right?" Joey looked up at his mother and smiled. "All right, Mummy." He looked towards the other children, but stayed where he was. "Go on then, my son, off you go." "But, Mummy. Is it safe?" "Yes, my son, it is safe. You are big enough to jump now." "But, Mummy?" "Yes?" "I've never jumped before." Mother was worried, had she kept him inside for too long? She knew in her heart that it was past time for her son to leave the pouch. "Go on, my son. Off you go and play. I won't be far away." Joey took one tentative leap forward and stumbled. He looked back at his mother. "Mummy?" "Go on." Joey jumped forwards, slowly at first, but with increasing confidence as he neared the other children. When he got there, Flyer was upset to see the other children shy away from him, for they did not know who he was. She also saw that her son could not jump as well as the others, for they had been jumping for weeks and their legs were stronger. She watched as Joey's jumps became lower and shorter, and before long he stopped playing altogether and limped back to her. The other children pointed and laughed as he climbed back into her pouch and hid. Years later, Joey grew into a strong, young Boomer and had children of his own. He knew about dingoes, but never kept his children from enjoying the open plains, for he wanted them to grow strong and learn about the world. Only once did he ever see a dingo -- a thin and scrawny thing -- lurking around a far off rock, looking at the court with hunger in its eyes. His children recognised the creature, for he had told them about it, and they jumped back to the court on their strong hind legs, as he had told them to do. He knew then that they were far safer and happier than he had ever been as a child. And he also knew that sometimes the only thing to fear is fear itself. The Fable of the Kangaroo by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-NoDerivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here. Music by Jay Atwood Male kangaroos are called bucks, boomers, jacks, or old men; females are does, flyers, or jills, and the young ones are joeys.[11] The collective noun for kangaroos is a mob, troop, or court. Kangaroos are often colloquially referred to as roos.

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." "Worry not, my wife. What we need is a bigger nest. I will build us one on the other side of the tree." And so Husband spent many days building a new nest, and both he and Wife spent many more days taking their possessions from one to the other, but eventually, after much toil and argument, the new nest was ready. Wife alighted upon the edge of their new home and smiled. "Oh, Husband, it is wonderful." And for a time they were both happy raising their new clutch. It was not long, however, before they grew used to their new home, and so Husband flew abroad again for things with which to adorn it. By the following Spring, the house seemed too small again, and as dull as their first nest had been. As the years went by, no matter how big they built their nests, nor how many shiny objects they adorned it with, the pair were not happy for more than a few days at a time, for they were never content with what they had. The Fable of the Magpie by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here. Music by Eileen Hadidian and Natalie Cox from the album, Dolce Musica - A Contemplative Journey, track 5 "O Pastor Animarum (Arr by Eileen Hadidian)", and provided by magnatune.com Magpies may be more like us than we once imagined: http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/09/27/1096137168806.html

The Fable of the Weaver Ant by Barry J. Northern A family of weaver ants chanced upon a fresh young mango tree one day and decided to make it their new home. It was not long before one of the family found a good leaf to begin the work of building a nest. He sought out the edge with his feelers and began to pull. His brothers and sisters saw him at his work and joined in beside him, adding their strength to the effort of bending the leaf, which was many times bigger than they were. They spoke to each other as they worked. "We must pull this edge up to the leaf above us." "I will lead a group to that leaf to help receive it." "Collect the younglings, we will soon need their silk to bind the edges." "1 - 2 - 3 - Heave!" "You there! Go and recruit more workers!" More of their brothers and sisters came and joined the bustling activity of construction. The chatter and noise of their collaboration created an atmosphere of joyous labour, and soon the leaves were bent close together. It was time for the chaining. "Hold on to my waist, brother. I think the gap will take four of us to span." "Reach out and grab my waist, sister, that's it, pull!" Soon a chain of ants spanned the gap, and in this way the family could pull the leaves together so that the binding could begin. Now one of the ants in the chain had been recruited by an eager sibling who had picked him up in his mandibles and brought him there to aid in the task without first checking if he was fit for work. The young ant had been up all night foraging for food, and was tired, and so as the chain made one last effort to bring the two leaves together he became exhausted and cried out, "Help me! I can't hold on!" "You must!" "Don't let go!" But though the young ant tried to hold on, his tired legs gave way and he let go of his sister's waist. Despite every other ant in the group being strong and fit, once their weakened brother let go, they were unable to hold the leaves together. The leaves sprang apart, spraying the family of ants in a splash of turning bodies, thus illustrating that old proverb, A chain is only as strong as its weakest link The Fable of the Weaver Ant by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3here. Music by Ricahrd Savino from the album, Mertz - Bardic Sounds, track 7 "Study", and provided by magnatune.com

The Fable of the Glow-worm by Barry J. Northern There was once a glow-worm who emerged out into the world for the first time, and beheld the night sky. While her sisters took their places on the blades of grass to await the menfolk, she stayed gazing at the stars. Before long Stargazer's sisters began to glow and twinkle around her in the grass. To the young glow-worm it was a pretty sight, but not as glorious as the stars above. Now it is the way of glow-worms for the menfolk and womenfolk to each be blessed with a different gift. The menfolk may fly among the heavens, yet are dull to behold. The womenfolk glow like gems, yet are wingless, and must remain among the tall grass. It was time for each of the womenfolk to attract a mate with her beauty, and so soon the evening air buzzed with the flapping of the menfolks' wings. Said Stargazer; "I desire not to be like my sisters, for they live an ordinary life." And so she began to climb the tallest stem she could find, looking up at the stars all the while as if trying to reach them. From time to time she would look back at her tail, and she began to believe it glowed more brightly than her sisters', for the higher she climbed, the smaller her sisters' lights appeared, and the larger her own glow seemed to her. One by one Stargazer watched her sisters' lights go out, for as soon as each one was paired with a mate, she would glow no more, and would settle down to make family with him. "Why can't I be like the stars," said she, "and burn all night, high in the sky for all to see and love?" She came to rest at the top of the great stem and thrust her tail high and bright. Many menfolk came to her, but she turned them all away, saying, "I shall not let you dim my light, I must share it with the world." After a time her's was the only light left among the grasses, and seeing only light-less glow-worms crawling beneath her, living ordinary lives, Stargazer believed she must be special like the stars. The night grew cold, and Stargazer began to feel tired, but she would not dim her glow, for she sought to impress those beneath her. Before long a young man, the only glow-worm without a mate, alighted atop the great stem in front of Stargazer. Said he; "Your light is the highest and brightest, and you are beautiful to behold. Will you make family with me?" "I will not," said she, "for then I will glow no more and become as dull as everyone else." "Tell me," said he, "how long do you think your beautiful glow will last?" "For as long as the stars." "Then what will you do come morning? For the sun outshines them all." Stargazer felt more tired now, and her glow was already beginning to dim. She made no reply. The young man took flight, saying. "I will return again soon. If you then choose not to accept me I will bother you no more." At first, Stargazer scoffed, for the young man was dull, but the more tired she grew, the more his words made their effect on her. She dwelt upon what the future might bring, and when the young man returned, she had the sense at last to agree to make family with him. Though her light went out, she loved her husband, and when her children were born she beheld that the slow-burning fire within her heart was brighter than any star. It was an invigorating light not a tiring one, and it was a light that would never dim. The Fable of the Glow-worm by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3 here. Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Meditative Guitar, track 1 "Lullaby", and provided by magnatune.com

The Fable of the Squirrel by Barry J. Northern There once was a young grey squirrel who became lost in the woods and could not find his way home. He spent a hard year alone casting about for food, for he was used to the help of his family, but in time he learnt well how to eat the spring buds, and later to find and gather the summer nuts, so that by winter he knew he would live to see the new year. Though Grey had now learnt how to live, it was a lonely life, so when one day he met a black squirrel he became excited and desired to make friends with him. "Hello there!" he cried, "How come you are alone in the forest?" But Black hid behind a tree and would not answer. Grey moved closer, slowly, not wanting to alarm the lone squirrel, and it was then he saw that Black was thin and starving. Grey ran back to his horde of acorns and fetched one for Black, hoping then that they would be friends, but when he returned Black was gone. The next day Grey spotted Black again, and this time he did not hide when Grey called out to him. Yet still, when Grey moved closer to offer Black an acorn, the lone squirrel ran away. The next two days were the same, until the third day when at last hunger overtook Black's caution and he took the nut from Grey's paws. Grey stayed nearby, and spoke to Black. "How come you are alone in the forest?" But as soon as Grey spoke, Black dropped the acorn and fled, and so Grey knew he would have to be patient, for the poor squirrel was a nervous creature who must have had a much harder life than he. The same happened the next day, and the next, but on the third day Black answered Grey's question. "I fell from my tree and was chased into the woods by a monster, and so I became lost." "Why are you so thin?" said Grey. "I used to eat the buds and fruits of my family's tree, but there are no trees like it in this part of the forest, and I do not know what is good to eat." Now Grey was so happy to have someone to talk to that he resolved to lead Black around the forest and show the poor squirrel all the good things there were to eat. For many days Grey lead Black around, and after many more days they became friends. Now one day, to Grey's delight, Black said he wished to try foraging alone, and so Grey stayed home to count the acorns in his horde. He soon found he did not have as many as he reckoned he would need for the winter. It was because he had been leading Black around the forest when he should have been gathering for himself, and so when Black returned with an acorn in his paws, he grew angry and said. "You should give that to me, for I have been helping you when I should have been stocking my horde." Black gave the acorn to Grey, and said. "It was a gift to you anyway, for all your help. I will bother you no more." And with that Black left. Grey soon regretted his words, and searched about for his friend, but he never saw Black again. The birds in the trees heard him calling out apologies for his lost friend, and mocked him, singing, "As food is eaten speedily, But very sorely won, So friends are made by many acts, And lost by only one." The Fable of the Squirrel by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3 here. Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, Meditative Guitar, track 10 "Alone", and provided by magnatune.com

The Fable of the Carp by Barry J. Northern There was once a school of carp who lived in a slow river with many other water creatures. The river was a beautiful place, full of life, and there was plenty to eat for everyone among weeds, which floated in the clear water. The carp ate well along the river bed, where their favourite food lay, and grew large. Some carp found ways to eat more than others, for they were clever and rooted deep in the mud, and so they became larger more quickly. One carp grew so large in this fashion that he crowned himself king. Even so, he still desired to grow larger, and even began to eat the other fish of the river. Now many of the carp were jealous of King, even while they desired to be as large as he, and so they too rooted deep in the mud and ate the other fish. A few of the carp among them saw that the once clear water was growing muddy, and that there were less kinds of fish in the river than there once were, but most simply desired to grow bigger like those around them. One carp mourned the lost beauty of the river, and so he vowed not to root in the mud lest he help dirty it, nor to eat the other kinds of fish and water creatures, for there were few now left. Yet his efforts made little difference, for all the other carp only desired to grow bigger like their neighbours. He tried to turn the others to his ways, but they would not listen to him, for he was small. One day, King searched for food among the weeds, but found little, and after a time he crossed paths with Small. “Ah,” he said, “a little fish for me to eat.” Small raised his fins. “No, King, you cannot eat me for I am a fish of your own kind.” “But there are no other fish in the river,” said King, and though Small tried to escape, he could not swim as fast as King, and so King swallowed him up. Soon only the largest carp were left swimming with King. No other fish or water creatures played among what was left of the weeds, which were barely visible in the muddy water. King lead the carp on a long swim for a new place to live, but the river only lead to the inhospitable sea, and though some had always said they could live there, they found they could not. So they knew then, when it was too late, that they had spoiled their only good place to live. But still they continued to root in the mud and eat the weeds, for now they were large fish and could not become small again. The Fable of the Carp by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3 here. Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, GuitarScapes, track 14 "Allegro in D Minor", and provided by My Podcast Alley feed! {pca-c39023e5ddc790eb138a25ec5c3b5285}

The Fable of the Great Horned Owl by Barry J. Northern There once was a great horned owl who loved to hunt. He became known among the other owls for his great skill, even though his kind were hunters by nature. The other owls loved him, and so it was not long before he found himself a wife and made nest with her. Early in spring the couple's first clutch hatched, and soon five owlets were screeching for food. It was a large family, but Mother did not worry, for her husband's skills meant there would always be plenty for her and her children to eat. Nevertheless, before he set off for work early in the evening, she said to him. "I shall miss hunting with you, husband, but I must stay at nest and keep our young ones warm." "Fear not, wife, for I will soon return." And then he swooped off the branch and was lost to the shadows of the deepening night. It was not long before Hunter returned, with food enough for the children. Mother fed her hungry owlets while Hunter flew off to find more food for her. Again he returned quickly, and she said to him. "Have you eaten yet, Husband?" "No, so I must get back to work." "Will you come back and eat with me? I will wait for you." "I may be some time yet, my love." Now it is the way of their kind for the menfolk to be smaller than the women, so Mother was confused. "Why, husband? For your own meal you need not catch prey so large as this leveret you have brought me, and you caught that quickly enough." "Ah but wife, my fellows have challenged me to hunt the porcupine. They are hard to catch, but they have challenged me and that is that. It will make a fine meal, but I will not be able to carry such a large catch back." Mother was upset that Hunter would not be home to eat with his family, but she knew how much her husband enjoyed the hunt, so she wished him luck. He left in high spirits, and did not return until the sun began to rise; when his wife was already asleep. Now Hunter enjoyed hunting with his fellows, and was proud to be known as the best hunter in the woods. Therefore he hunted long through the night displaying his skill, and accepting their challenges, and so rarely were his owlets awake upon his return, and he did not see them growing, nor did he eat with his wife. One October morning, when the sun had almost fully risen, he returned home triumphant, bursting with news of a tricky bat he had taken when no-one else had been able. He was pleased to find his wife still awake and waiting for him, standing out on the branch facing the low spring sun. Hunter settled next to her and said, "Why are you up so late my wife?" "I have been waiting for you." Then Hunter saw the empty nest, and said, "Where are the children?" "They are children no longer, husband. Today they have flown away to make their own lives." "But they are not old enough. I was going to teach them how to hunt like their father. Why did they not wait to say goodbye to me?" Then Mother turned to Hunter, and said. "They knew not their father, for he was never here." She shuffled away from him on the branch. "And I no longer I have a husband." And with that she flew from their nest, leaving Hunter to enjoy the fruits of the hunt alone. The desire to hunt left him then, and he remembered his own childhood, and something his own mother used to say came back to him. "A family that eats together, keeps together." The Fable of the Great Horned Owl by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive, download MP3 here. Music "October" by The Scottish Guitar Quartet from Podsafe Audio.

The Fable of the Starfish by Barry J. Northern Two starfish clung to a rock in the shallows, enjoying the to and fro of the seawater against their tube feet. After a while, one starfish spoke to the other. "I am hungry. Let us go and find some mussels to eat." His friend agreed, and so they crawled down the rock and across the sand to where the mussels slept on their rock. On the way, they came to a crevice in a high reef, and Hungry said, "Let us go through this way, for it is quicker." Friend was not sure, and with reason, for soon both starfish were stuck, and as much as they struggled, both had one arm wedged fast within the crevice. Hungry pulled hard and left his arm behind, saying, "It matters not, for my arm will soon grow back." And off he crawled toward the mussels, enjoining his friend to follow. "I will follow you soon, brother, for I am almost free." Friend wiggled his arm and with care was able to manoeuvre it out of the crevice without injuring himself. He soon caught up with Hungry, who was already eating mussels on the rock. Hungry and Friend ate together for a while, but Hungry was not satisfied. "Let us go to the top of the rock, where the mussels are bigger." Friend was content, however, saying, "No brother, I will stay here, for these smaller mussels are easier to open." After Friend had feasted a while longer, Hungry came back down the rock, now with only three arms. "What happened to you, brother?" "I became stuck in a large mussel, for it was too strong for me. But fear not, brother, for my arm will soon grow back. Let us return to the shallows." Now on the way back to the shallows, Hungry lost two more arms. One he lost to a reef crab rather than walk around it, and the other he lost to a triton shell who had been lurking in the shadows of a short cut. But each time Hungry said to Friend, "Fear not brother, for my arm will soon grow back." Soon the two starfish clung to their rock in the shallows, enjoying the sun on their backs, and the gentle to and fro of the seawater against their tube feet, and as each one's belly was full, they drifted into sleep. When they awoke, the sun was gone, and the to and fro of the sea was no longer gentle. Hungry said, "A storm is coming. Let us find a hole to hide in." But the storm was already upon them, and though they tried, they could not crawl against the surging water. Hungry began to lose his hold upon the rock, and so Friend held out an arm to help. "Here, brother, take hold of me." But when Hungry reached out, the angry waters picked him up and washed him onto the heavy pebbles, far away from the shoreline. And though he tried to crawl back to the shallows, he could not, for he only had one arm, and the others had not yet regrown. After that, Friend travelled wide, singing his lamentation to all who would listen. Don't be like the sea star, Washed up upon the shore, For one ounce of prevention, Is worth a pound of cure. The Fable of the Starfish by Barry J. Northern is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. Hosted by The Internet Archive download the MP3 here Music by Jeff Wahl from the album, A Light in the Darkness, track 17 "The Sea", and provided by