Star Literature
FICTION

The hawk and the mice

Bolstered, the six little mice lead their army up–up–up the trunk of the poor, ravaged oak they were so desperate to save
ILLUSTRATION: AMREETA LETHE

Come, little children, let me tell you the tale of six little mice and the great and terrible hawk.

 

Once upon a time, six little mice lived beneath a vast oak in a lovely forest. Their life, on the surface, was wonderful. They had many friends, their parents loved them, and they were well. Yet the six little mice knew that the great roots of the oak were beginning to rot from within. 

"What is causing this terrible rot?" they asked. 

Nobody knew, and it worried them. If this terrible rot continued, the oak would surely fall one day! What can be done to save their home?

One fine July morning, bright and beautiful in the sun, a dark cloud fell on the six little mice as they played by the foot of the oak.

One of them looked up in surprise. "Look! A hawk!" 

Terrified, they scurried quickly beneath the roots of the oak, desperate to hide. 

An older mouse laughed. "Why are you frightened of the hawk? We have always lived with her. She will not harm you." 

But the six little mice knew something was wrong. The shadow of the hawk had fallen on their hearts. So, with great courage, they climbed up the great oak. 

Up and up, they climbed. Past the branches and the leaves, past the broken old nests of other birds. Higher and higher and ever higher until, at last, they stood on the highest branch of the vast oak and looked upon the nest of the great hawk. 

"It is not a nest!" the little mice cried. "She has burrowed into the trunk of the oak itself! She is eating the wood!" 

"That is why the roots are rotting," another of them wept. "She has hollowed out the great tree."

Frightened, the six little mice scurried back down to the base of the oak as fast as they could, their hearts racing. Once they were home, they lay on the floor and panted. 

"We must drive away the hawk," said one of the little mice. "If the bird flies away, the tree can still recover. We can rebuild!" 

The old mouse, who had discouraged them, rose up now angrily. "Drive out the hawk! You have lost your wits. The hawk is mighty, and you are mere mice. You will never defeat her." 

The little mice nodded. "Just by ourselves, no, we cannot defeat her. But, old mouse, how many mice live in the forest? We can gather them together. A thousand mice fighting one hawk—we will win." 

"Foolish children!" the old mouse shouted. "You will perish!" 

"If we do this, we might indeed die," one of the little mice said. "But if we do not, we will certainly die when the roots fail and the dead tree falls." 

So, hardening their hearts, the six little mice went out into the forest. They went to every friend, every family, saying, again and again, to everyone they could find: "The hawk is destroying the oak! Come!" 

On the dawn of the battle, the six little mice, exhausted, sat on their doorstep, waiting. 

"Will they come?" one of them asked, afraid. 

"We do not know," another said. "We can only hope." 

Yet, when the sun rose, the six little mice watched in awe as mice came—not just a thousand, but tens of thousands. Word had flown of the plight of the beloved oak and every mouse, old and young, had risen to their call. 

"We will save the oak!" they chanted as they marched. "We will drive away the hawk!" 

Bolstered, the six little mice lead their army up–up–up the trunk of the poor, ravaged oak they were so desperate to save. 

The hawk, seeing this, was enraged. She sent her friends to hunt the mice, and they ravaged the poor things. Many of them fell, never to rise again. But the wisdom of the crowd was upon the mice, and they refused to back down. Again, they were attacked. Again, they rose. A terrible cycle, endlessly repeated, until, at last, they stood before the branch that had once housed the great and terrible hawk. 

But the hawk, seeing her defeat, had tucked her tail and already flown away, leaving the forest far, far behind. 

The old mouse, once a disbeliever, turned to the six little mice and smiled. "Little ones. You have saved, not just the oak, but all the forest!" 

The six little mice bowed. "Not just us. We all did. This victory is ours. Come—let us rebuild what we have lost." 

So, the six little mice rebuilt the oak and all the surrounding forest, and they all lived happily ever after.

 

Sarazeen Saif Ahana is an adjunct member of the faculty at Independent University, Bangladesh where she teaches English and allegory to her students.

Comments

FICTION

The hawk and the mice

Bolstered, the six little mice lead their army up–up–up the trunk of the poor, ravaged oak they were so desperate to save
ILLUSTRATION: AMREETA LETHE

Come, little children, let me tell you the tale of six little mice and the great and terrible hawk.

 

Once upon a time, six little mice lived beneath a vast oak in a lovely forest. Their life, on the surface, was wonderful. They had many friends, their parents loved them, and they were well. Yet the six little mice knew that the great roots of the oak were beginning to rot from within. 

"What is causing this terrible rot?" they asked. 

Nobody knew, and it worried them. If this terrible rot continued, the oak would surely fall one day! What can be done to save their home?

One fine July morning, bright and beautiful in the sun, a dark cloud fell on the six little mice as they played by the foot of the oak.

One of them looked up in surprise. "Look! A hawk!" 

Terrified, they scurried quickly beneath the roots of the oak, desperate to hide. 

An older mouse laughed. "Why are you frightened of the hawk? We have always lived with her. She will not harm you." 

But the six little mice knew something was wrong. The shadow of the hawk had fallen on their hearts. So, with great courage, they climbed up the great oak. 

Up and up, they climbed. Past the branches and the leaves, past the broken old nests of other birds. Higher and higher and ever higher until, at last, they stood on the highest branch of the vast oak and looked upon the nest of the great hawk. 

"It is not a nest!" the little mice cried. "She has burrowed into the trunk of the oak itself! She is eating the wood!" 

"That is why the roots are rotting," another of them wept. "She has hollowed out the great tree."

Frightened, the six little mice scurried back down to the base of the oak as fast as they could, their hearts racing. Once they were home, they lay on the floor and panted. 

"We must drive away the hawk," said one of the little mice. "If the bird flies away, the tree can still recover. We can rebuild!" 

The old mouse, who had discouraged them, rose up now angrily. "Drive out the hawk! You have lost your wits. The hawk is mighty, and you are mere mice. You will never defeat her." 

The little mice nodded. "Just by ourselves, no, we cannot defeat her. But, old mouse, how many mice live in the forest? We can gather them together. A thousand mice fighting one hawk—we will win." 

"Foolish children!" the old mouse shouted. "You will perish!" 

"If we do this, we might indeed die," one of the little mice said. "But if we do not, we will certainly die when the roots fail and the dead tree falls." 

So, hardening their hearts, the six little mice went out into the forest. They went to every friend, every family, saying, again and again, to everyone they could find: "The hawk is destroying the oak! Come!" 

On the dawn of the battle, the six little mice, exhausted, sat on their doorstep, waiting. 

"Will they come?" one of them asked, afraid. 

"We do not know," another said. "We can only hope." 

Yet, when the sun rose, the six little mice watched in awe as mice came—not just a thousand, but tens of thousands. Word had flown of the plight of the beloved oak and every mouse, old and young, had risen to their call. 

"We will save the oak!" they chanted as they marched. "We will drive away the hawk!" 

Bolstered, the six little mice lead their army up–up–up the trunk of the poor, ravaged oak they were so desperate to save. 

The hawk, seeing this, was enraged. She sent her friends to hunt the mice, and they ravaged the poor things. Many of them fell, never to rise again. But the wisdom of the crowd was upon the mice, and they refused to back down. Again, they were attacked. Again, they rose. A terrible cycle, endlessly repeated, until, at last, they stood before the branch that had once housed the great and terrible hawk. 

But the hawk, seeing her defeat, had tucked her tail and already flown away, leaving the forest far, far behind. 

The old mouse, once a disbeliever, turned to the six little mice and smiled. "Little ones. You have saved, not just the oak, but all the forest!" 

The six little mice bowed. "Not just us. We all did. This victory is ours. Come—let us rebuild what we have lost." 

So, the six little mice rebuilt the oak and all the surrounding forest, and they all lived happily ever after.

 

Sarazeen Saif Ahana is an adjunct member of the faculty at Independent University, Bangladesh where she teaches English and allegory to her students.

Comments