The Fox and the Meadow

A fox lived in a meadow and was happy to have seen the glorious springtime arrive.  For that spring, in this particular meadow, the fox had a great many rabbits to fill his belly.  As we all know, rabbits breed like rabbits, and the rabbits of this meadow did not differ in that respect. The fox grinned and hopped about all day as he took his fill of at least six or seven bunnies, or more, as he pleased.  As a young and sprightly fox, he ate more than enough bunnies to satisfy any fox, but he never grew a pot belly as he hopped and leaped and laughed each day from morning until night.

One day, the fox approached an orange blossom.  He skipped as he approached, and he gleamed with happiness.  He whispered to the orange blossom: “You, my dear, are the most beautiful rosebush I have ever seen.”   At that, he skipped away to eat more rabbits.

Later, the elder rabbits heard from the field mice that at the edge of the meadow ran the waters of a stream.  Across the stream and through the brush the mice had found another meadow, far grander and much more pleasant than the meadow of our fox.  Even more, said the mice, the other meadow had no foxes to fear.  The large ears of the rabbit elders heard this counsel well, and so the rabbits left the meadow of our fox for greener pastures. 

Weeks later, the fox grew tired, haggard, and hungry.  With no bunnies to fill his belly, the fox took to eating earthworms, snakes, and the occasional snail.  Our fox no longer smiled and no longer skipped.   He limped and dragged himself in misery.

Eventually, the fox staggered to the corner of the meadow, where the orange blossom still stood in full bloom.  “You are the ugliest weed I have ever seen and you make me sick,” said the fox to the orange blossom.  However, the orange blossom had not changed.  It had never been a weed and it had never been a rosebush, but always an orange blossom.  The fox was just hungry, irritable, and grumpy, and the orange blossom never paid attention to the fox anyway.