IF YOU THINK THIS ONE HAS CERTAIN POLITICAL OVERTONES, IT'S PROBABLY FOR A GOOD REASON.
"Maybe I should have you for dinner", the Eagle told the Beaver. "You look like such a fine meal".
The Eagle, in his illusion of grandeur, had flown straight into the high voltage powerlines and had dropped from the sky. He had in fact electrocuted himself and was now unable to fly, so he was crow-hopping down the path toward self-destruction, sounding more like a squawking seagull.
At first, the beaver was a little concerned about the meal proposition, but being the smart animal that the beaver is, he quickly realized the absurdity in the situation and didn't pay much heed to the insanities that the eagle came up with.
"That won't happen. Ever!", he told the eagle, and loafed back into his pond. Once back in his pond, he rolled over on his back and looked back at the crow-hopping eagle on the trail: " Why do you think the big, bad wolf never actually got to eat the three little pigs named Canada, Greenland and Panama? Because he finally came to his senses and realized he needed them alive, and if he ate them, there would be nothing to chase, tomorrow".
The eagle tilted his head slightly and looked back at the beaver as if he didn't understand a word of what the beaver just said, which he in reality probably didn't. Then the beaver dove under and starting looking for new branches and vegetation he could fortify his beaver dam with. "Out with the old, in with the new", he though to himself.
"But I'm the mighty bald eagle", Mr Crow-hop squawked back at the beaver. But at this point in time, the beaver couldn't hear him any longer and quite frankly didn't pay much attention to the psycho-babble the eagle came up with. He'd found new friends in new ponds who were eager to supply him with everything he needed and everyone in the little ponds increasingly just ignored Sam, the eagle.
When the eagle eventually got hungry enough but couldn't any longer catch anything to eat, by himself, he started picking at the cadavres on his path. Already dead. Half rotten. Easy pickings was the only thing he could find. "But I'm gonna make all eagles proud again", he squawked.
"In your dreams", a voice sounded from above. "You are nearly road-kill by now. We're just waiting for the next Ford Recall pickup truck coming down the trail and you will be a goner".
The eagle looked around, confused. Where did this voice come from? What is this all about? Crow-hopping a few more steps, he looked up, and up there, in the top of the tall trees, he spotted his fellow eagles sitting on their branches with a really good view to reality and the future, blue sky all around them.
From up there, they could even look down on the beaver and they knew that the beaver was their friend. Contrary to Mr Crow-hop, the other eagles understood that the beaver building his own, strong dam, would mean more water for them to catch salmon and trout in.
"Eat the beaver and you are going to starve to death" they told the pathetic bird on the trail. "You will run out of water and when you run out of water you will run out of food".
The eagle didn't know what to believe, so he just sat there for a while on the trail, empty minded. He really didn't know what to do? He was drawing blanks. Paralyzed and speechless, he tried a new tactic:
"All eagles unite. Attack the traitors in the trees" he commanded. But he sounded more like six seagulls squabbling over a dead fish on a deep sea trawler than a grand bald eagle. Then he looked around, but didn't see any of the other animals coming to his rescue, nobody following his commands.
The good and smart eagles in the trees, with their eagle vision, thought they heard something, and all turned their heads in unison. Sure 'nuff, down the trail, in the horizon, a dust cloud starting to form, slowly creeping towards them. Didn't take all that long before you could hear it, too. They looked at each other, as if to confirm that they all saw what they think they saw and that it wasn't just a fata morgana. Then they all nodded to each other in confirmation of the reality that was about to come to fruition.
"We suggest you get off the path you are on now", they warned the eagle on the ground, "or you won't be remembered for anything good".
"My name is Sam", Mr Crow-hop yelled back, "and I am the greatest eagle that has ever been, and I am going to make the forest great, again".
Just as he finished his words, the Ford Recall came barrelling around a slight bend in the trail, at full throttle. Pedal to the metal. The good eagles closed their eyes. They knew this was going to get ugly. And when they opened their eyes again, Mr Crow-hop was gone, but there was fresh, bloody goo on the trail and feathers were still waffling around on the wind. "So sad", they agreed, "but inevitable".
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The long winter had come and gone and life in the pond had been kind to the beaver and all other animals that live in the pond. Multiple beaver families had come to join him, and together they had built and strong and solid community where everyone was respected, even when not everybody agreed on everything.
Whether beaver, frog, toad, salamander or any other creature, everybody lived togther in a fairly high degree of harmony and acceptance of their differences, and soon enough, the days of the lame eagle became just a memory that the old beavers kept with themselves, hoping that some day...one day...we might actually learn from history.
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