Have you ever heard of the hare of the northern fields?

A fickle and wild creature is he. He bounds and leaps across the fields of the farmer, eating where he pleases and trampling the crops in a temper when he becomes upset. The other residents of the north field flee his presence, afraid of his wrath, oft delivered with firm kicks. He has no care for other critters nor gentle growing plants. All are simply in his way and subject to his will.

But when the hare kicks the mouse and tramples the tomato stalk, little does he know the damage he inflicts upon himself. For in the spring when the crops grow, without the mouse there to chase away the insects, the food of the temperamental hare is overrun and ruined. The trampled tomato stalk bears no fruit.

So then came the winter one year, harsh and unrelenting. The hare slept in his burrow, his belly too empty for the season. Such it was that when he awoke in the spring he was weak and his body frail. He could not bound and leap and trample and kick as he had. The tomatoes and corn and other crops had grown tall where he could not reach them. The hare, once so angry and proud, now fell low and felt fear.

“How shall I eat?” He asked the wind. But the wind had no answer.

The hare saw the mouse, busy and flitting about to catch his prey. He called to the mouse “Mr. Mouse, please, how may I eat? I cannot reach the crops this year”. But the mouse was afraid and he ran away, crying “don’t kick me, don’t kick me please Mr. Hare!”

The hare, his empty belly gnawing at him, staggered about the north field, looking for low hanging food he might feast upon. But everywhere he went, the crops looked down at him in anger, unwilling to share their bounty with one who so carelessly trampled them. He saw the tomato stalks he had laid low, trampled and barely alive, unable to produce their precious fruit.

The hare, now knowing his time was come, cried out above the trampled tomato plant. “Oh how little I have cared for the mouse and the crop in my pride and anger! How precious life is that I have stamped upon and kicked at in my ignorance! Shall I now die in this field bereft of sustenance by my own hand?”

As the hare cried, his tears fell upon the tomato plant. Tears of regret, but also tears of revelation. The hare now saw that all life, no matter how small and seemingly inconsequential, played a precious part in the ongoing cycle of mother nature. The tomato plant, having always known how precious the hare was, and rejuvenated by the hare’s tears of love, unfurled its leaves to reveal one small bounty. A lone tomato was revealed and gifted to the hare.

The hare between his tears saw the gesture.

“Oh bless you. You’ve saved my life despite my callous disregard of yours. Thank you. Forgive me, I will never trample a plant again, nor kick a mouse either.”

And so it was that the hare, well fed and once again master of the north field, became loving and attentive, tending to the crops and befriending and aiding the mouse. He truly came to understand how precious all life is.