The Tortoise and the Hare
The fastest runner in the forest meets the slowest — and learns, the hard way, that slow and steady wins the race
Page 1
In a bright green meadow at the edge of a great forest lived a hare who was, without any doubt at all, the fastest runner for miles around. And he knew it, and he never let anyone forget it. All day long he would dash and dart and leap across the grass, kicking up his heels, just to show the other animals how quick he was. "Watch me! Did you see that? Nobody can run like me!" he would cry, zig-zagging around the rabbits and bounding clean over the hedgehogs. The deer admired him, the squirrels applauded, and the hare grew prouder and prouder, until his head was quite as full of boasting as the meadow was full of flowers. There was simply no one in all the forest, he was certain, who could ever hope to beat him in a race.
Page 2
Just then an old tortoise came plodding along the path, slow and steady, as tortoises always do. The hare burst out laughing at the sight of him. "Look at you, creeping along!" he jeered. "Why, it must take you a whole hour just to cross the meadow. I could run to the river and back before you reached that stone!" The other animals giggled, but the old tortoise only lifted his wrinkled head and looked at the hare with calm, patient eyes. He was not angry, and he did not boast. He simply said, in his slow and gentle way, that quickness was not everything — and that if the hare was so very sure of himself, perhaps he would care to settle the matter with a proper race. The whole meadow went quiet with surprise.
Page 3
News of the race flew through the forest faster than even the hare could run, and by afternoon a great crowd of animals had gathered in the clearing, chattering with excitement. Who would win — the swift, boastful hare, or the slow, steady tortoise? To make everything fair, the animals chose the wise old fox to be the judge, for everyone trusted him to be honest. The fox paced out the course with great care. "You will start here, beneath this birch tree," he said, "and the winner is the first to reach the tall oak on the far side of the meadow, past the brook and up the little hill." It was a good long way. The hare grinned, sure it would be no trouble at all. The tortoise only nodded quietly, and looked toward the distant oak with calm, steady eyes.
Page 4
The two racers lined up side by side beneath the birch tree, the hare quivering with eagerness and the tortoise settled low and ready. The crowd of animals hushed. The fox raised a bright red leaf high in the air, held it for one breathless moment — and then let it fall. They were off! In a single heartbeat the hare exploded forward in a great cloud of dust, bounding away across the meadow so fast that he was halfway to the brook before anyone had even finished cheering. The tortoise, meanwhile, lifted one wrinkled leg, and then another, and began to plod forward, slow and steady and sure, exactly as he always did. The animals roared with laughter to see the two so far apart already. But the old tortoise did not hurry, and he did not stop. He simply kept on going.
Page 5
The hare ran like the wind, clearing the brook in one mighty bound and scrambling halfway up the little hill before he even thought to look behind him. When he did, he nearly fell over laughing. Far, far away across the meadow, back near the birch tree where they had started, he could just make out the tortoise — a tiny brown dot, plodding along as slowly as ever, barely past the start line. "Why, the poor old fellow has hardly moved at all!" chuckled the hare. "I could run this race ten times over and still beat him." He was so far ahead, and so very pleased with himself, that he began to feel there was really no hurry at all. The great oak at the finish was not so far now, and the tortoise was no more than a speck. What, after all, was the rush?
Page 6
Feeling sure he had all the time in the world, the hare spied a cool, shady spot beneath a leafy tree right beside the course, where the grass grew soft and thick. "I'll just rest here a little while," he said to himself with a yawn, "and have my nap, and let the poor tortoise catch up a bit — it's only fair. Then, whenever I please, I'll jump up and dash to the finish long before he ever arrives. He'll never even come close." So the hare flopped down in the soft green grass, stretched out his long legs, folded his paws beneath his chin, and closed his bright eyes. The meadow was warm and still, the bees were humming, and in no time at all the boastful hare was fast, fast asleep, dreaming happily of the race he was so certain he had already won.
Page 7
On and on came the tortoise, step by patient step, never once stopping to rest. He did not run, for he could not; but he never slowed, and he never gave up. Slowly he reached the brook, and slowly he waded across it. Slowly he began to climb the little hill. And there, in the soft grass beside the path, he came upon the hare, stretched out fast asleep and snoring gently, quite certain the race was already his. The tortoise did not laugh, and he did not stop to gloat. He simply kept on going, one wrinkled leg after another, plodding quietly past the sleeping hare and onward up the hill toward the great oak. Slow and steady, slow and steady — that had always been the tortoise's way, and it was carrying him, inch by inch, closer and closer to the finish.
Page 8
Up at the great oak tree on the top of the hill, the crowd of forest animals had been waiting and watching — and now a murmur of astonishment ran through them. For here came the tortoise, slow and steady and sure, plodding up the last of the slope toward the finish, while the hare was still nowhere to be seen! The animals could hardly believe their eyes. "Come on, tortoise! You can do it! Keep going!" they cried, cheering him on with all their might. The old tortoise did not look up and did not hurry; he only kept his eyes on the great oak and kept on plodding, closer and closer, one patient step at a time. The wise fox stood waiting at the finish line beneath the oak, watching the slow, steady racer draw nearer, and a small smile crept across his clever face.
Page 9
Far down the hill, the hare woke with a sudden start. The light had grown golden and low — he had slept far longer than he meant to! In a panic he sprang to his feet and looked around. The tortoise was nowhere beside him. His heart gave a great thump, and he tore up the hill faster than he had ever run in his life, legs flying, ears streaming, dust billowing behind him. But it was no use. Even as the hare came bounding up the slope, the old tortoise took one last slow, steady step — and crossed the finish line beneath the great oak! The forest animals erupted into a mighty cheer. The hare skidded to a stop just a moment too late, staring in disbelief. Slow, steady, patient and sure, the tortoise had won the race fair and square.
Page 10
What a celebration there was beneath the great oak! The animals crowned the old tortoise with a little wreath of leaves and flowers and cheered him again and again, for he had done what no one had believed possible. The tortoise only smiled his quiet smile and said that he had done nothing clever at all — he had simply kept on going, and never given up. As for the hare, he was no longer boasting. He came forward, ears drooping, and told the tortoise honestly that he had run the better race, and that he was truly sorry for all his teasing. The tortoise forgave him at once, and the two shook paw and leg and were friends from that day on. And ever after, whenever an animal grew too proud of being quick, the whole forest would remind him, with a smile: slow and steady wins the race.
About this story
- Audience: kids (ages 6–12)
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