The Ant and the Grasshopper by Aesop Narration by Ari Ross Once upon a time,
In a wide green meadow,
Where tall grasses swayed and wildflowers nodded in the breeze,
There lived an ant and a grasshopper.
The ant was small,
Black,
And shining,
With legs that never seemed to stop moving.
Every morning,
When the first rays of sunlight touched the meadow,
The ant marched out of the anthill to work.
He carried crumbs,
Seeds,
And bits of grain,
One after another,
All day long.
He was not alone.
A long line of ants stretched across the grass like a moving black ribbon,
Each one carrying something heavy for the winter ahead.
Together,
They built up their store of food,
Grain by grain,
Crumb by crumb.
Not far away,
On a tall green stalk,
Lived the grasshopper.
His long legs were built for leaping,
And his wings gleamed like emerald glass in the sunlight.
The grasshopper loved only two things,
Singing and playing.
He would strum his wings like a fiddle,
Chirrup a cheerful tune,
And leap from one stem to another,
Filling the meadow with his music.
One summer afternoon,
The grasshopper landed beside the ants.
He plucked a tune on his wings and called out merrily,
Good day,
Little ant.
Why do you work so hard?
The sun is shining,
The meadow is green,
And there is food everywhere.
Come,
Rest with me,
Sing with me,
Dance with me.
The ant paused just long enough to set a heavy grain inside the anthill.
He lifted his head and said,
Good day,
Grasshopper.
The sun may shine now,
But the days will not always be warm.
Winter is coming.
When the snow falls,
There will be no food to find.
I must prepare.
The grasshopper laughed a high,
Chirping laugh.
Winter,
Winter,
Winter.
You ants are always worrying about tomorrow.
Look around.
Do you not see the meadow full of food?
Seeds and leaves and flowers,
All for the taking.
Why waste these golden hours carrying crumbs when you could be singing in the sunshine?
But the ant only shook his head.
A summer will not last forever.
And with that,
He picked up another seed and marched on.
Day after day,
The ant worked.
From morning until evening,
He carried food into his storehouse underground.
The chamber grew full.
Crumbs piled high.
Seeds stacked neatly.
Berries tucked away in corners.
And day after day,
The grasshopper sang.
He fiddled on his wings.
He leapt through the tall grass.
He told jokes to the bees and chased butterflies across the meadow.
If he was hungry,
He nibbled a leaf.
If he was thirsty,
He drank from a dewdrop.
Life was easy.
Life was free.
Whenever he saw the ants,
He called out,
Stop working.
Play with me.
Sing with me.
But the ants never stopped.
They marched on with steady steps,
Saying only,
Winter is coming.
Then,
One morning,
The air grew cold.
Frost glittered on the glass like tiny diamonds.
The flowers had withered.
The tall stalks were brown and brittle.
Winter had come.
The ants hurried into their warm hill,
Carrying the last crumbs of autumn.
Inside,
They were safe and snug,
With food enough to last until spring.
But the grasshopper,
Ah,
Poor grasshopper,
He shivered on a bare twig.
His wings could no longer sing.
His stomach was empty.
He leapt through the meadow,
Searching for food.
But there was nothing.
No flowers.
No green leaves.
No seeds.
Only snow.
Only silence.
At last,
Weak and trembling,
He made his way to the ant hill.
He knocked softly on the little door.
Dear ant,
He said in a faint voice,
I am hungry.
I am cold.
Please,
May I share some of your food?
The ant opened the door a crack and looked at the grasshopper.
His legs shook.
His wings drooped.
And his once cheerful eyes were filled with sorrow.
The ant spoke quietly.
All summer long,
I worked while you sang.
I warned you that winter would come,
But you did not listen.
Now winter is here.
My food is for those who labored to gather it.
The grasshopper bowed his head.
Slowly,
He turned away,
Regretting the golden days he had wasted.
And so,
The ant lived safely through the long,
Cold months,
Warm and well fed.
The grasshopper,
However,
Learned a lesson he would never forget.
Those who prepare today will not likely go hungry tomorrow.
A moral of the story is,
Work while there is time,
So that when hard days come,
You will be prepared.
The End
