Children's Business Review

The Most Likable And Interesting People Have A Lasting Effect On Everyone Else

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Clara happened upon quite a commotion as she arrived at Aris’ home one morning. The surrounding trees teemed with owls of every age, size and colour and the sound of their hoots was utterly deafening. The one constant among all this chaos was a dismal look on each owl’s face.  

Clara was immediately worried about what might have happened to cause such disorder, particularly as owls are known for being rather stodgy and unexcitable. It didn’t take long for Clara to observe Aris amongst the crowd and his face bore a look of concern Clara had never seen him wear.   

Upon spotting Clara, Aris flew over and alighted on a nearby branch. Above the sound of the other owls Aris addressed the matter clearly at hand, “Oh hello Clara. As you can probably see, everyone’s a bit troubled right now.”

“Whatever is the reason?” Clara inquired. 

Aris glanced at the owls around him and drew closer to Clara and spoke in as close to a whisper as the background noise would allow. “It’s quite a sad story Clara,” he began. “Last year, an owl from a forest not far from here came and offered to help us set up a larder.” 

“What’s a larder?” Clara asked.

“It’s a place, often an empty cave or den, where you can store food,” Aris responded. “The owl who came described to us how the owls in her forest had been using larders for years now and how the larders ensured that everyone had more than enough food to eat come winter.”  

“That sounds useful,” Clara remarked.

“Indeed. It sounded very useful to all of us at the time too,” Aris confided. “And, after we decided to have a larder of our own, the owl found an unused cave for us to use and instructed us in the finer points of larder usage and management. All through the spring and summer we’ve been filling the cave with our extra food and then yesterday, when my neighbor went to check the larder, we found that it was empty and all the food had vanished.”

Clara was astonished.  “What happened to all of your food?” she asked.

Aris shook his head. “We’ve learned that the owl who came to help us had arranged to have all the food taken away. She’s done this before in other forests. We thought that she was here to help but it seems as though she was really a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“I’m sorry Aris, for you and for your friends,” Clara said softly, nuzzling Aris gently with her soft nose. After a few minutes of silence during which the pair surveyed the chaos around then, Clara asked Aris something that had clearly been on her mind. “What did you mean when you said that she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing?”  

“Why don’t I tell you a story to explain what I meant,” Aris responded, happy to have something to take his mind of the owls’ troubles if but for a short while.

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As you approach the edge of the forest where the following story takes place, there is a pond that is as much admired for its beauty as for its cool, crisp and clean waters.  Beyond its exquisiteness and tranquility, what frequently strikes visitors is the pond’s unusual boot-like shape. This probably explains why the pond is known around the forest as “the wellington waters”.

At the far end of the pond, the point furthest away from where your toes would go if the pond were indeed a real boot, is a modest beaver dam which serves as home to Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and their twin boys.  Because of the tall oak trees growing at its edge, this point of the pond tends to have the coolest water, the most shade, and is a favourite resting place for the forest’s inhabitants during summer’s hottest days. 

The shallowest waters can be found at the “toe” end of the pond and this is where the wildflowers, cattails, bulrushes and reeds grow in the sunlight. This is also where you’ll find the waterfront homes of a collection of frogs, garter snakes and mice.

In-between these two areas are giant patches of lily pads whose wide leaves serve as floating platforms upon which many an insect or frog takes pause. Beneath the pond’s surface, the lily pads’ long stems extend to the pond’s depths eventually burrowing deep into the bottom’s cool muds. Besides anchoring the lily pads, these stems create both a maze and a playground for the pond’s schools of fish. 

At the time when this story takes place, the pond’s first visitors of the day were inevitably the forest’s birds who arrived at sunrise to quench their thirst, bathe themselves and sing their first songs of the day. As the morning would creep on, an old muskrat often ventured from deep within the forest to have a drink and receive an update from the pond’s mice on all the forest gossip. Because mice spend their days scurrying here and there with eyes and ears constantly taking in everything around them they are without a doubt the best creatures to go to if you want to learn about all the goings-on wherever you may be. Towards noon, upon the instruction of Mrs. Beaver, Mr. Beaver and his sons would usually leave the pond, venture into the forest and search for whatever type of wood Mrs. Beaver had decided was needed that day for the neverending maintenance and improvements that their modest home required. All in all, the pond was quite an orderly and agreeable place, serving as a home for some and a regular retreat for others.

One day, rather unexpectedly, a crocodile took up residence in the middle of the pond making his home amongst the lily pads I told you about earlier. Now you must understand that this was quite an occurrence for the creatures of the forest for several reasons. First, a crocodile finding its way into a forest is, to put it mildly, an unlikely happening, and few forest creatures had ever seen a real-life crocodile before. Secondly, and of course more importantly, this new visitor to the pond came with an uncomfortable truth; crocodiles are happy to eat fish, birds, mice or anything else that is foolish or unlucky enough to get within gobbling-up distance. As you might have guessed, the word quickly spread around the forest that everyone would simply have to stay away from the pond from that moment on, or, if that was not possible, must guard their distance from the pond’s new crocodile resident.

And so, as a result of the crocodile’s arrival, the birds who visited the pond at sunrise made certain to keep their eyes on his whereabouts. The muskrat too, when visiting the pond for a drink and for some gossip, was mindful of where the crocodile was at all times and what he was up to. The most careful of all would have to have been Mr. Beaver and his sons. Quite sensibly, they made certain that the crocodile was given a wide berth when leaving the pond on their daily trip to the forest. 

The effect he was having on the pond’s residents and visitors was certainly clear to the crocodile however judging by his outward appearance, it hadn’t put a damper on his mood. In fact, as all those who passed by the pond could attest to, the crocodile was by no means discouraged from trying to interact with whoever crossed his path (despite their reticence).

New routines took over from old habits and life in-and-around the pond returned more-or-less to normal, albeit with the additional considerations brought on by the crocodile’s residence. In terms of the crocodile’s routine, every morning, he approached the shores of the pond where the birds bathed and sang and before they could become alarmed, reassured them of his advancing presence.“Don’t be afraid of me,” he called out, “I am merely here to listen to your beautiful music, the likes of which I have never heard in all my travels.” Flattered, the birds would sing their hearts out, not realizing that each day the crocodile moved just a little bit closer to where they bathed and sang.

 After speaking with the birds, the crocodile would pass his time listening to whatever snippets of information he could gather from the various conversations the pond’s visitors would have. Consequently, by the time the muskrat made his way from the forest to the pond, the crocodile had a wealth of gossip to share. You may have guessed that it wasn’t long before the muskrat could be seen huddling up close with crocodile and listening intently to the secrets that the crocodile had to share. 

As time went on, guests of the pond began remarking on the growing friendship that seemed to be developing between Mr. Beaver and the crocodile. In fact, almost every day the crocodile could be seen examining the various types of wood brought to the pond by Mr. Beaver and his sons from the forest. It was also common to hear the crocodile complementing Mr. Beaver on the ever increasing accomplishments of his sons with respect to woodcutting. “They’re certainly on their way to becoming excellent beavers!” the crocodile was heard exclaiming on more than one occasion. 

As you might imagine, all previously-made resolutions to keep a distance from the pond’s crocodile were soon forgotten or disregarded by its residents and visitors and the crocodile unexpectedly became one of the pond’s drawing features. I’m sure you’ll not be surprised to learn that as time passed, the pond’s residents and visitors, including several birds, a group of frogs, multiple mice, Mr. Beaver, the beaver boys and the old muskrat, disappeared mysteriously, never to be heard from again. And while you might expect that the crocodile would be saddened by the disappearance of those who, by all appearances, had become his close friends, the crocodile’s smile never seemed to diminish.

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“I would never be fooled by a silly old crocodile!” Clara asserted, almost indignantly, as Aris’ story drew to an end. 

“I hope you never will,” Aris responded. “But remember,” he warned as he gestured with his wing towards the unsettled owls around them, “there’s a crocodile in every pond.”