The crab and the crane

The crab and the crane

Long ago, there was a summer when the rains seemed to have forgotten the way to the earth.

The sun stood high in the sky day after day. The grass turned yellow, the small streams became thin, and there was very little water left in one forest pond.

The fish crowded into the deepest hollow, anxiously watching the water fall.

“Soon we’ll have nowhere to swim,” said a little silver fish.

“We must wait for rain,” said old Carp.

“And if the rain does not come tomorrow?”

No one knew what to say.

Meanwhile, Crane stood on the shore. He looked at the fish for a long time and shifted thoughtfully from foot to foot.

“Why are you looking at us like that?” the silver fish finally asked.

Crane bent his long neck.

“I am wondering how to help you. Your pond is nearly dry. I know a much larger pond in the forest. Its water is cool, trees shade the banks, and green leaves float on the surface.”

The fish became alert.

“What do you suggest?” Carp asked.

“I can carry you there one by one. I have strong wings. It’s not difficult for me at all.”

The little silver fish narrowed her eyes.

“Crane, you’ve suddenly become very caring. How do we know that such a pond really exists?”

Crane was taken aback for a moment, but quickly answered:

“That’s right. Don’t just take my word for it. Let one of you fly with me, see the pond, and come back. Then he’ll tell you everything himself.”

The fish whispered.

At last, Carp said:

“I’ll fly. I remember the way well and won’t confuse one pond with another.”

Crane carefully picked him up and took off into the air.

It was the first flight of Carp’s life.

Treetops, paths, and dry clearings drifted beneath him. Then, between the pines, a broad expanse of water gleamed.

The large pond was beautiful. It held plenty of water, deep shade covered its banks, and dragonflies hovered beside the reeds.

“See?” Crane said proudly. “I didn’t invent it.”

“I see,” Carp replied. “Now take me back so I can tell the others the pond is real.”

Crane returned him to the small pond.

“He told the truth!” Carp announced. “I saw the water myself.”

The fish were delighted.

“Take me first!”

“No, me!”

“I’m the smallest! It’s hardest for me!” “One at a time,” Crane declared solemnly. “I’ll carry you all.”

And he took the first fish.

But this time he did not fly to the big pond.

Near the large pond, hidden behind thick bushes, was a small woodland pool. It held just enough water for fish to breathe and wait, but roots and stones blocked the way out.

Crane lowered the fish there.

“Where is the big pond?” she asked in surprise.

“Quite close,” said Crane. “Wait here.”

And he flew back.

He brought the second fish, then the third, then the fourth.

He told each one the same thing:

“Wait. I will manage everything.”

Crane had devised an unkind trick. He liked having the fish depend completely on him. He planned to keep them in the little pool and demand favours in exchange for helping them: tasty food, perhaps, or whatever else took his fancy.

“Let them know who is the most important here,” he muttered along the way.

The fish in the little pond knew nothing about this.

They only saw that Crane returned again and again.

“So everything is fine,” they said.

Almost half a day passed like this.

Near the very shore, under a flat stone, lived Crab. He carefully watched Crane’s flights.

Crab was not the pond’s quickest resident, but he never hurried to trust words when he could check the facts.

When Crane returned, Crab raised a claw.

“Will you carry me?”

“Of course,” Crane replied. “I help everyone.”

“I won’t ride on your back.”

“Why?”

“I am heavy and slippery, and I might fall. Better let me hold your neck gently with my claws.”

Crane didn’t like it.

“Couldn’t you hold my wing instead?”

“You would find it hard to fly with me on your wing. I can hold your neck easily. Don’t worry. I won’t pinch you unless you start behaving foolishly.”

Crane thought. He really wanted to show that he could control even Crab.

“Okay. Just hold on carefully.”

Crab made himself more comfortable, and they took off.

First, Crane flew along the same road that he had taken Carp to the large pond. Crab saw sparkling water in the distance.

“Is that the pond?” Crab asked.

“Yes, yes,” Crane said quickly.

But suddenly he turned aside.

“Why aren’t we flying towards it?”

“There’s a shorter way.”

Crab said nothing, but his claws were already holding on a little tighter.

Behind the bushes he heard splashing and voices.

“Crab! Crab, is that you?”

The fish Crane had supposedly taken to their new home were huddled in the little pool.

Crab understood everything at once.

“Crane,” he said very calmly, “why are our friends here instead of in the big pond?”

Crane sat down on the ground.

“I... wanted to gather them together first.”

“Why?”

“It’s more convenient that way.”

“For whom?”

Crane fell silent.

Crab tightened his claws a little. He caused no pain, but held firmly enough for Crane to know he could not escape.

“Listen carefully,” said Crab. “You showed Carp the real pond to gain everyone’s trust. Then you brought the fish here. That is deception, not help.”

Crane lowered his beak.

“I thought I could keep them here and command them.”

“And they entrusted you with their lives during the drought.”

Crane was silent.

The little silver fish called from the pool:

“We are scared. The water is warm and shallow here.”

Crab turned to Crane.

“Now you will take me to the big pond. Then you will come back and carry every fish there. Every single one.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

Crab shifted his claws ever so slightly.

“Then we will have to sit here together for a very long time.”

Crane sighed.

“Okay.”

They flew to the large pond.

When Crab was near the cool water, he let go of Crane's neck.

“I’ll keep my word if you keep yours,” he said.

Crane returned to the little pool.

One by one he carried all the fish to the real pond.

This time without tricks.

When the last little fish splashed into the cool water, they all swam joyfully around the reeds.

The Carp swam up to Crane.

"You could have been our helper from the very beginning."

“I could have,” Crane admitted softly.

"And then we would have thanked you without any compulsion."

Crane looked at his reflection in the water.

He suddenly felt ashamed for wanting to turn someone else's misfortune into his own power.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I began by doing something good, then decided to take advantage of your trust.”

Crab nodded.

“I’m glad you understand. But remember: when someone depends on your help, that does not make you their master.”

Soon the rains came. The large pond filled up even more, and the grass around it grew greener.

Crane often flew to the bank after that. He no longer invented hidden conditions or demanded gratitude.

And the fish remembered another rule.

When someone promises to save you very easily and very quickly, it is useful to first check where the road leads.

Because good advice is not afraid of questions.

And real help does not set traps.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨