On a gentle twilight, where the colors of dusk blended harmoniously, Arthur, a youthful fox, found himself meandering through a magical forest. Eager to gather suitable treasures for winter, he delicately picked every acorn in sight.
“Gather all the acorns you can at twilight,” a nearby squirrel advised with a gleam in her eye. Yet, looking at the fluffy creature, Arthur chuckled quietly. Was this squirrel truly wise, or just a whimsical figure?
As Arthur returned home with his gather, he contemplated the squirrel’s advice.
“Is the forest brighter at twilight? Or am I just a bit foggy-headed when the sun is about to set?” he mused. Surely any creature so diminutive and unrational as a squirrel could not be a good judge of things!
Winter’s arrival confirmed Arthur’s foolishness. With the first snow covering the glade, his small mound of winter stores became visible to each passing deer and rabbit. Every night, albeit cautiously, Arthur lost his treasures voted by these creatures. Some they stepped upon, others toppling over in their tussles. Hunger finally drove Arthur from his hidden den after the last acorn was consumed, and he stepped forth faint and starving.
The wise old owl asked him, “Why do you not store enough provisions when the autumn was so kind to you?”
“I thought I had enough, but I underestimated the creatures with whom I share my glade. I heeded not the advice of the squirrel,” the fox lamented.
“Nay, nay! It was no fault of the squirrel! But of you, who mocked her advice.” So saying, the owl flitted away.
As Arthur passed through a near glade, he observed a series of mute squirrels rummaging through a pile of acorns, lifting one here and there by their tiny claws, and discarding it again. The forest spirit approached to explain.
“Yesterday an unsealed tree-top buried those acorns. Every one must be cleared even to the last, for every single one will need to be handled in order. Work now while the light is good, and it is not yet noon.”
“Will they not do as well in the dark?” asked Arthur, half-laughingly, half-petulantly.
“Not a whit?” replied the spirit. “Do you not observe the sunshine pouring in there?”
Arthur paused. Had not the squirrel her own private reasons for gathering her twilight store? She who had lived a tree-top or two higher than any squirrel during their daylight hours within the forest? So he bade her good evening.
“Good night!” chirped she. Then he thought her a witless thing, but Arthur learned by her advice as he advanced in years. So he grew wise in time, and drew no fool’s wisdom from hairy-paws or cat’s trotters.
Children should try to remember the very first important lesson that life teaches—that of patience.