The Squirrel and the Nuts

In autumn,
a squirrel gathered nuts.

Some were large.
Some were small.

He stored them
in different places.

Before long,
other animals came to him.

A rabbit asked,
“Could you spare some?”

The squirrel gave her
a few of the larger ones.

A small bird said,
“I only need a little.”

The squirrel shared some.

A fox passed by,
glanced at the pile.

“These look good,”
he said.

The squirrel handed over
a few of the biggest ones—
the easiest to open.

Then, after a moment,
he added two more.

Days passed.

Each time he gave
something away,
he chose the better ones.

What remained
grew smaller.

When winter came,
he looked at his stockpile.

There were still nuts—
not many,
and all of them small.

The shells were hard.
He tried to crack one.

He paused.

It wouldn’t open.

He picked another.

The squirrel sat there,
hungry for a long time.

He said nothing.

The next autumn,
he gathered again.

This time,
he set the largest ones aside
in a hidden place
and left them untouched.

The medium ones
he shared with passing animals.

Sometimes,
he gave a few larger ones—
but not all.

When winter came,
he opened the place
he had set aside.

The shells opened easily.

He had a warm,
well-fed winter.