Why Snails Climb Up Grass

Why Snails Climb Up Grass

Long ago, beside a warm pond, lived four friends: Dalag the fish, Dragonfly, Wasp, and Snail. They were very different. Dalag was the largest and could swim beautifully. Dragonfly flew faster than the wind above the water. Wasp could repair almost any crack in their little home. And Snail never hurried, but he was patient, careful, and never forgot where anything belonged. One day the friends decided to live together. “That is a fine idea,” said Dalag. “If each of us does what we do best, life will be easier for everyone.” So Dalag searched for food. Dragonfly carried news and messages. Wasp kept things in order and repaired the house. Snail cooked, tidied, and remembered every useful detail. Their little home stood beside the water among tall grasses. In the evening they sat together and traded stories about the day. “I flew all the way to the water lilies at the far end of the pond!” Dragonfly would say. “I found the softest moss I have ever seen,” Snail reported. “Tomorrow I will strengthen the roof,” Wasp promised. And Dalag waved his fins. “I will bring something good for breakfast.” One morning Dalag swam away in search of food. The sun had only just risen. The water was cool, and tiny insects drifted among the green stems. Near the surface, Dalag noticed something that looked like an easy meal. He swam closer and suddenly felt himself caught on a thin fishing line. Soon a fisherman arrived. “What a fine fish,” he said, carefully freeing Dalag. Dalag thrashed so desperately that the fisherman shook his head. “I think today is not your day for my basket. Go on.” He released Dalag into a broad channel on the other side of a barrier. Dalag was safe, but the current carried him farther and farther away from home. Back at the little house, the others waited. “Dalag is never this late,” Snail said anxiously. “I will find him,” said Dragonfly. She adjusted the thin blade of grass she wore like a ribbon and flew over the pond. Dragonfly searched among reeds and water lilies. She asked frogs and water beetles, “Have you seen Dalag?” “No.” “Not today.” “Sorry.” Near a stream, Dragonfly noticed a little fish moving its mouth at the surface. She mistakenly thought it was laughing at her grass ribbon. “What is so funny?” she demanded. The little fish opened and closed its mouth again. “Aha! My ribbon must be crooked.” Dragonfly tugged it. Then adjusted it again. Suddenly the grass ribbon caught on a dry twig. “Oh!” Dragonfly pulled and became tangled. Luckily another dragonfly was passing. She helped free the knot. “You are exhausted,” the stranger said. “Come rest at our pond. It is far from here, and evening is coming.” Dragonfly agreed, thinking she would return to the search in the morning. But a strong wind blew during the night. By morning, familiar reeds were far beyond the hills, and Dragonfly no longer knew the way back. At the old house, only Wasp and Snail remained. Another day passed. “Now Dalag and Dragonfly are both missing,” said Wasp. “I will look for them.” Their food stores were low, but Wasp set out anyway. She searched beside the pond, over the field, and among the bushes. At last the scent of ripe fruit led her to a distant garden. There were flowers, sweet juice, and sheltered places everywhere. “I will rest only until tomorrow,” Wasp decided. Then she met other wasps, helped them repair a damaged nest, made new friends, and stayed longer than she intended. Soon she too could no longer remember the road to the old pond. Snail was alone. That evening he placed four little bowls on the table out of habit. One for Dalag. One for Dragonfly. One for Wasp. One for himself. He looked at the three empty places. “I do not believe they simply disappeared. They are somewhere. I have to find them.” The next morning Snail began his journey. To someone else, it might have looked impossibly slow. To Snail, it was an expedition. He crawled beneath a root. Went around a puddle. Waited out rain beneath a broad leaf. Whenever the path vanished among tall grass, Snail found a sturdy stem and began climbing. Slowly. Past one leaf. Then another. Higher and higher until he could see across the land. “Dalag!” he called toward the water. “Dragonfly!” he searched the sky. “Wasp!” he listened for buzzing above the flowers. Then he climbed down and continued. The old story says that one day, far from home, Snail heard a familiar hum. Another time, he saw a fish tail in a distant channel that looked very much like Dalag's. Near a garden, someone had left a drop of sweet juice on a leaf, just as Wasp used to do when sharing with a friend. Did all four friends finally meet again? The old tale does not say. Perhaps they did. Perhaps each found a new home but never forgot the others. What the story does tell us is why snails still climb blades of grass after rain. They rise slowly, stretch out their feelers, and look across the distance as if asking: “Friends, where are you?” If you see a snail high on a stem, do not hurry to disturb it. Perhaps it is simply checking the horizon. A true friend may travel very slowly, but that does not mean he ever stops searching for those he loves.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨