The Alligator and the Jackal

A clever jackal liked to come down to the river each day, to drink and to hunt for crabs along the muddy bank. And in that river lived a big, hungry alligator, who had decided that this plump little jackal would make a very fine meal indeed. If only he could catch him.

The first day, the alligator buried himself among the crabs in the shallows, mouth open, holding very still, waiting. But the jackal was sharp-eyed, and as he came down to the water he noticed something not quite right. So he spoke aloud, just loudly enough to be heard.

“How strange,” he said. “Usually when I come hunting, a nice fat crab gives itself away by blowing a little bubble up through the mud. I do wonder where the fat one is hiding today.”

The greedy alligator, wanting only to make the jackal step closer, blew a little bubble.

“Aha!” laughed the jackal, leaping back out of reach. “Crabs do no such thing! Thank you kindly, friend alligator, for showing me exactly where you are.” And off he trotted, perfectly safe.

The alligator was furious. So the next day he crept all the way up the bank and into the jackal’s own den, and lay there in the dark, still as a log, ready to pounce the moment the jackal came home.

But the jackal, returning, saw at once that the footprints in the dust led into his den, and that none led out again. So once more he spoke aloud. “How very odd,” he said. “My den always calls out a cheerful hello to me when I come home of an evening. Den! Oh, den! Why are you so silent today?”

The foolish alligator, certain now that dens really must speak, and not wishing to give himself away by staying quiet, called out in a deep gruff voice, “Hello! Welcome home!”

The jackal nearly fell over laughing. “A talking den! Well, I never did. Goodbye, alligator!” And away he ran again, safe and sound.

And the hungry alligator never did catch his clever dinner. For a sharp mind that stops to notice when something is not quite right will slip out of a great many open mouths.