The Harvest

The Harvest

One spring morning Mikko the fox and Pekka the wolf were standing at the edge of a small field, watching the wind stir the young grass.

“The soil is good here,” said Pekka. “If we sowed barley, we could fill our storerooms by autumn.”

Mikko narrowed his eyes.

“That’s a great idea. We’ll work together, and then we’ll share the harvest.”

And so they did. They loosened the ground, sowed the grain, waited for the rain, and when the shoots rose, they came from time to time to check the field. The barley grew, turned green, reached for the sun, and by the end of the summer it was golden and heavy with grain.

“It’s time to harvest!” said Pekka happily.

Together, they cut the stalks, tied them into sheaves, and carried them to an old barn. There was plenty of work still to do, so they asked Osmo the bear to help.

Osmo came willingly.

“If we’re going to work, let’s do a good job,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.

The three friends spread the sheaves in the barn. They needed to thresh the grain from the ears, separate it from the straw and chaff, and put everything away.

“Before we start,” said Pekka, “let’s agree on who will do what.”

Mikko quickly looked around and noticed a strong beam high up under the ceiling.

“I’ll take on a very important task,” he announced. “I’ll watch over the barn and make sure everything is safe. You two can work below.”

Pekka and Osmo looked at each other, but they did not argue.

Osmo began to thresh, Pekka separated the grain from the chaff, and Mikko sat higher up and called out from time to time:

“Careful down there! Don’t rush!”

The wolf and the bear did the hardest work. By evening, Osmo’s paws ached, and Pekka was so tired he could hardly stand. Mikko climbed down, cheerful and well rested.

In front of them lay three piles: a large pile of straw, a slightly smaller pile of light chaff, and a small but heavy pile of pure golden grain.

“Well,” said Pekka, “now we must divide the harvest.”

“That’s easy,” Mikko answered at once. “There are three of us, and three piles. Osmo is the biggest, so he gets the biggest pile. You’re in the middle, Pekka, so you get the middle-sized one. I’m the smallest, so I’ll take the smallest.”

Osmo looked at the tall straw mountain and nodded with satisfaction.

“That’s fair! My pile really is the biggest.”

Pekka was also delighted with his plump pile of chaff.

“Mine is quite a size too.”

Mikko quietly pulled the little pile of grain towards himself.

They went home, each with his share.

The next day, Osmo decided to make porridge. He chopped some straw, put it in a pot with water, and set it over the fire. He stirred for a long time, but instead of fragrant porridge, he got a grey, tough mass.

Meanwhile, Pekka tried to cook his chaff. It floated on top, stuck to the spoon and did not look at all like dinner.

And from Mikko's house came a pleasant smell of fresh porridge.

Osmo and Pekka came to him together.

“Mikko,” said the bear, “why does your supper smell so good when mine doesn’t even look like food?”

“Neither does mine,” Pekka sighed.

The fox looked at his friends. At first, he wanted to make a joke. But when he saw their tired faces at the door, he remembered who had really done almost all the work in the barn.

Then Mikko felt a little embarrassed.

“Because I took the grain,” he said honestly. “And I left you the straw and chaff. You won’t make good porridge out of them.”

Pekka frowned.

“But you suggested this division yourself.”

“I did,” Mikko admitted. “I took advantage of you looking at the size of the piles instead of what was in them.”

Osmo scratched the back of his head.

“So the biggest doesn’t always mean the most valuable.”

“Exactly,” said Mikko. “And it means I haven’t been much of a friend.”

He took out a bag of grain and poured it out on the table.

“Let’s divide it again. We all worked on the field, so we should all share the grain.”

This time they measured out three equal parts. They left the straw for bedding, the chaff for household needs, and divided the grain equally.

Pekka smiled.

“Now that looks fair.”

“And it looks like supper,” Osmo added.

That evening, pots of porridge bubbled in all three houses. Later, the friends met beside the field again and agreed that next year they would first understand what they were sharing, then decide who should have each pile.

From then on, Osmo never chose a share just because it looked biggest. Pekka listened more closely to the terms of every agreement. And Mikko understood that cleverness was useful, but served its purpose best when it helped everyone.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨