The Kind Crow and the Selfish Crow Late in the afternoon, after the farmer had returned home following a long day of work, two crows would fly into the barn. They flew in every day to eat the oats left in the buckets that the farmer used to feed his horses. Because it was harvest-time, there were plenty of oats to eat. The crows did not like to share, however, and would often have to squawk at other animals to keep them away. “It sure is great,” said one crow, “that we always have oats to eat.” “It certainly is,” said the other crow after squawking at some barn swallows, “and, because he has so many, I’m sure the farmer doesn’t mind.” All through the fall, it was the same thing day after day. The farmer would wake up early, feed his animals and work his fields, and in the evening he would return home as the crows flew into the barn to eat the leftover oats. “Do you think,” one of the crows asked the other, “that the farmer will ever run out of oats?” The other crow had tipped over the feed bucket and was busily eating the oats inside. “No,” he said, “and, if he does, we’ll find food someplace else.” Before too long, the days started getting shorter and the nights started getting colder. The farmer worked hard all day to bring in his harvest before the frost set in. With less food in the fields, more animals began looking for food inside the barn. This meant that the crows had to get to the barn earlier and earlier to get their fill of the leftover oats in the horses’ feed buckets. Finally, the day the farmer had been preparing for had come. A dismal, grey haze of clouds hung over the land. Small, swirling specks of white flurried on the last breath of autumn winds as they fell to the earth. Not wanting to be caught in the storm, the crows took refuge in the barn. It was not long before other animals got the same idea. As more critters from the fields scampered, crawled, or flew into the wooden shelter, the snow fell heavier and the wind blew colder. The two crows decided that they ought to sleep in the barn that night, rather than venture back into the storm. “Why,” said one crow to another, “we can sleep in these very buckets.” Just then, a family of field mice, shivering from the frigid weather, meekly approached the two crows. “It’s so very cold,” said one of the mice, “and we hope it’s no trouble, but could we share the inside of those buckets with you?” “No!” squawked the first crow, rounding on the field mice. “They are our oats, and this is my bucket!” The other crow was looking at the inside of his tipped over bucket. It was awfully spacious inside, and he certainly would not need all of that room just to sleep by himself. There were even some oats left. “Listen,” he said to the field mice, “I can’t speak for my friend, here, but it’s all right with me if you sleep inside this bucket tonight. This storm is very bad, and I sure wouldn’t want to sleep in the cold, either.” “Hmph!” The first crow selfishly squawked. “Do what you want, but I had better not catch anyone trying to sneak into my bucket!” So, the field mice crowded into the tipped-over feed bucket with the kind crow. Once all of the creatures were comfortable, they all closed their eyes and tried to get some rest. With the wind howling outside and the noise from all of the other animals in the barn, the crow was hardly able to sleep. Worse still was the cold. Even with the field mice with him in the bucket, the crow couldn’t remember a colder night in his life. It made him think of his friend and wonder if he was keeping warm. Somehow, even with the noise, the wind, and the freezing cold, the crow was able to drift off to sleep inside of the bucket. When morning came, the crow awoke to find that the family of field mice had already awakened. As he stood up and hopped outside, he could see that there was snow piled up around the walls of the barn. Snow had fallen from the sky all night long. Winter, it seemed, had come to the farm at last. Turning around, the crow’s eyes fell on the family of field mice, huddled together in front of the other bucket. The one who had spoken the previous night looked at him sadly, and the crow curiously approached to see what they were looking at. When he got to the front of the bucket, he saw. His friend, who had so selfishly insisted on having his own bucket to sleep in, had frozen in the cold winter night. Before long, the farmer was awake and came out to the barn to feed his animals and milk his cows. The farmer had worked hard all year and even the first storm of winter was no reason he should stop. That evening, the crow flew into the barn and, once again, ate the leftover oats. As the sun set and the cold winds blew outside, the crow climbed into the bucket beside the field mice to go to sleep. He missed his friend, but he knew that kindly thinking of others had been the only thing that kept him from sharing the same fate.