Once upon a time, on a warm late-summer afternoon, a sly old wolf named Wilbert was trotting along a dusty country road. His belly was letting out a long, low rumble — grumble, gurgle, roar! Wilbert was very hungry indeed, and he was on the hunt for a good meal.
As he came round a bend in the road, he found a high wooden fence. And on the other side of that fence lay a grand, shimmering field of golden oats, the stalks swaying gently in the breeze, heavy with ripe crunchy grain.
Wilbert’s eyes lit up. He trotted over, poked his head through the rails, and took a deep sniff. Sniff, sniff, snort.
His ears drooped at once, and he let out a long, frustrated sigh.
“Ugh. Grass and seeds,” he muttered, wrinkling his snout in disgust.
You see, wolves do not eat oats. To a wolf, a field of grain is about as useful as a pile of rocks. Realising there was nothing here for him, Wilbert turned to carry on down the road.
A Clever Plan
Just as he took his first step, he heard the heavy rhythmic thump-clop, thump-clop of hooves coming along the dirt path.
He looked up and saw a strong, handsome horse named Barnaby walking towards him, on his way home after a long morning in the pastures.
Wilbert’s sneaky mind went straight to work. A sly grin spread across his face, showing his sharp white teeth. He smoothed down his fur, wiped the frown away, and put on his sweetest, friendliest voice.
“Ah, good afternoon, my dearest friend Barnaby!” Wilbert called, waving a paw and stepping out into the middle of the road.
Barnaby stopped where he was. He raised one eyebrow and looked down at the wolf suspiciously. Wolves were not generally known for being polite, let alone friendly.
“Good afternoon, Wilbert,” said Barnaby cautiously, keeping his distance.
The “Generous” Gift
“My dear Horse,” Wilbert declared, puffing out his chest and pointing a paw at the shimmering field behind him, “you simply must see this wonderful field of golden oats I have just discovered. Thick, ripe, and sweet. And look closely — I have not touched a single stalk. I saved every last bit of it, just for you.”
He placed a paw over his heart and did his very best to look noble.
“And why,” asked Barnaby, watching the wolf’s eyes narrow slightly, “would you do that?”
“Because I am your devoted friend!” cried Wilbert. “Nothing in all the wide world would bring me more joy — nothing would please my heart more — than to sit right here beside this fence and listen to the delightful sound of your teeth crunching into that ripe, delicious grain.”
And Wilbert smiled his biggest, sweetest smile, and waited for the horse to thank him and trot happily into the field.
The Horse’s Answer
Barnaby looked at the glittering field of oats. Then he looked back down at Wilbert, who was trying very hard indeed to look like a generous and caring hero.
Barnaby let out a loud, dry laugh that came out very like a snort.
“How extremely generous of you, Wilbert,” he said, shaking out his long mane. “A heart of pure gold. Or so you’d like me to believe.”
Wilbert blinked, and his smile wavered. “What do you mean?”
“My fine friend,” Barnaby chuckled, leaning down towards him, “if wolves could actually eat oats, you would hardly have given up your own dinner just to please your ears. You are only gifting me this field because you cannot eat a single bite of it yourself.”
Wilbert’s face went hot right through his grey fur. His trick had failed completely. With his tail tucked between his legs, the embarrassed wolf gave a small whimper and hurried off down the road to find a meal he could actually eat.
And Barnaby trotted happily into the field, laughing to himself as he enjoyed his crunchy golden dinner.
The Moral of the Story: There is no virtue in giving away what is of no use to you. Real generosity means sharing something you value — not handing over the things you never wanted in the first place.