As I’ve mentioned many times, I love proverbs, aphorisms, Zen koans, paradoxes, fables….and I love a traditional teaching story.

Here’s one of my favorites, and one that I’ve known since I was a very young girl, and one that I regularly invoke in conversations with other people.

It’s the story of the Little Red Hen.

It’s a traditional folktale that’s believed to have come originally from Russia. The first known written version was collected by the American author Mary Mapes Dodge and published in St. Nicholas Magazine in 1874.

It has been told and retold many times, and has been published in many classic picture books—I know I have at least two versions on my shelf right now.

Here’s my retelling of this fable:

Once upon a time, there was a Little Red Hen who lived in the farmyard of a hardworking and frugal farmer. This suited her perfectly, for she was a hardworking and frugal hen.

Also in the farmyard lived a Duck, and a Cat, and a Dog—but unlike the farmer and the Little Red Hen, these three loved to lie around the farmyard doing nothing at all.

One early morning, while she was scratching in the yard, the Little Red Hen spotted a few grains of wheat.

“Look, look!” she clucked with delight. “Look at these grains of wheat I’ve found! Who will help me plant this wheat?”

“Not I,” yawned the Cat.“Not I,” quacked the Duck.“Not I,” sighed the Dog.

“Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

Over many days, the sun shone, the rain fell, and the wheat grew tall and golden. The Little Red Hen was well pleased with the heavy stalks she’d grown from the rich, dark earth.

At last, she turned again to her neighbors. “Who will help me cut the wheat?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“Not I,” said the Cat, licking her paw.

“Not I,” said the Duck, waddling to the pond.

“Not I,” said the Dog, snoozing in the shade.

“Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

When the wheat was cut, it had to be threshed. “Who will help me thresh the wheat?” she asked.

“Not I,” said the Cat.
“Not I,” said the Duck.
“Not I,” said the Dog.

So the Little Red Hen threshed the wheat herself.

Once the wheat was threshed, it needed to be carried to the mill on the other side of the village to be ground into flour.

“Who will help me carry the wheat to be ground into flour?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“Not I,” said the Cat.
“Not I,” said the Duck.
“Not I,” said the Dog.

“Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen. And off she went, carrying her sack of wheat down the long road, and after some time, she came back again, with a sack of soft brown flour.

Now it was time to make the flour into bread.

“Who will help me make the bread?”

“Not I.”
“Not I.”
“Not I.”

Came the answers.

“Then I will do it myself,” said the Little Red Hen.

She mixed and she kneaded and she set the loaf to bake. And soon the delicious, hot smell of fresh bread came drifting across the farm.

The Cat lifted her head. The Duck waddled close. The Dog licked his chops.

“Who will help me eat the bread?” asked the Little Red Hen.

“I will!” said the Cat, padding her way closer.
“I will!” said the Duck, bobbing his head in enthusiasm.
“I will!” said the Dog, wagging his tail in anticipation.

“Oh, no, you won’t,” said the Little Red Hen in a firm voice. “I planted the wheat. I cut the wheat. I threshed the wheat. I carried it to the mill, and I baked the bread—all by myself. And now,” she said, “I will eat it all by myself.”

And she did, and she enjoyed every single bite.

This is a children’s story, but I find myself thinking about it often. There are many people who aren’t very interested in contributing to the work who are very happy to enjoy the results or to share in the credit.

 But we don’t have to share our harvest with them!