Grandpa Jones took his small granddaughter to the pond. It was a familiar place for them. Cynthia liked to look at the small creatures that made their homes around the edge of the pond, while grandpa liked to pretend to fish. He never caught anything though, probably because he never bothered baiting the hook.
On this particular trip, Cynthia was intrigued by the frogs, one of whom was sitting on a lily pad catching an occasional fly or other low flying insect.
“Grandpa, how did the frog get that tongue?” Cynthia asked.
Her grandfather sat back and thought, then told his story.
Well, way back in time, when animals could still talk so you could understand them, the frog didn’t have that tongue. He had a short one, and he had to work a lot harder at getting his food. Now the frog also had a red fur coat, finest you ever could wish for...
“Really?”, asked Cynthia, not quite sure she believed that.
Really, confirmed her grandfather. He was proud of that coat too, though it caused him no end of trouble.
“What kind of trouble?”
Well, he couldn’t swim as well, the fur was a drag when it got wet, and besides it made him cold. When he came onto land to dry off, he couldn’t hop very well with all that extra weight, and besides he couldn’t jump to catch flies like that.
“What did he do then?”
He made do with ants and beetles, they didn’t taste as good, and he had to work harder to catch them, but they were food.
“So how did he get his tongue?”
I was getting to that part. Now quit rushing me. Well Mr. Fox was in similar bad shape. He had whiskers, and a white tip on his tail, and fur on his paws and ears, but that was about it.
“He sounds like a poodle,” Cynthia giggled.
Well, yes, I suppose he might have looked a bit like one. But he also had a long tongue which didn’t suit him very well - it got in the way and stuck to his food. Well he was cold, and hungry one day when Mr. Frog hopped past him chasing a butterfly. He wasn’t having much luck catching it though.
“Sort of like you fishing.”
Well yes, sort of. Anyway, Mr. Fox started thinking about how grand it would be to have Mr. Frog’s fur coat. He thought about it a bit more, and decided to do something about it. He bounded up to Mr. Frog.
“Good afternoon sir,” he said in a sincere voice. “I couldn’t notice that hot and itchy coat you are wearing.”
Frog turned and looked at him. “I don’t know what you are talking about. This fine coat of fur keeps me warm at night, and keeps my butt cushioned when I land.”
Then frog started thinking about Mr. Fox’s tongue, and he started scheming how to get it himself. Mr. Fox wasn’t the only sly one around the pond.
“So tell me Fox, how would you like to be rid of that silly looking tongue? I can take it off your hands for you.”
Fox thought about that for a moment. Frog’s tongue seemed much more useful then his. “I will tell you what, I will trade tongues with you if you give me your coat.”
Frog just laughed. “I can see I get the worst part of that bargain,” he said, as he hopped away.
He hopped along until he heard a strange noise. He hid under a leaf and watched. A man was wandering up the path with a cart full of bear hides. He was talking to himself as he pulled the cart. “These hides are nice, but rough. What I really need is a fine small hide covered with red fur.”
Frog kept still until he passed, then quickly hopped back to where he last saw fox.
“Fox, I have changed my mind. It sounds like a fair trade to me.”
The fox readily agreed thinking himself to have gotten the far better part of this bargain. The two wandered off to find the wise old owl, who knew a spell that could change body parts. The owl agreed to do it for two mice, which the fox caught and brought to him, and the deal was completed.
The frog hopped happily off, snatching gnats and flies and butterflies from the air until he had his fill. He then hopped into the pond, and took his place on the lily pad where you can see him to this very day. And that is why the frog is completely hairless as you can see.
“But what about the fox?” Cynthia asked.
Well the fox was happy with his share of the bargain too. He pranced across the forest strutting his fine new coat in front of the other animals. Then one day he came across the man. He had to run for his life then, and learn to avoid all sorts of traps to avoid being turned into a pair of mittens and a hat.
“Sometimes it is better to enjoy what you have,” Cynthia concluded.
“Sometimes it is. It depends on whether you are the frog or the fox,” her grandfather finished as they started to walk back to the house for dinner.