IN THE GREAT LONG-AGO, the Badger was pure white all over. ‘How sorry I feel for Bear with his dull brown coat,’ the Badger would say. ‘And who would want to be like leopard – all covered in spots? Or – worse still – like Tiger, with his vulgar striped coat! I am glad that the Maker Of All Things gave me this pure white coat without a blemish on it!’
This is how the Badger would boast as he paraded through the forest, until all the other creatures were thoroughly sick and tired of him.
‘He always looks down his nose at me,’ said the Rabbit, ‘because only my tail is white.’
‘And he sneers at me,’ said the Field Mouse, ‘because I’m such a mousy colour.’
‘And he calls me an eye-sore!’ exclaimed the Zebra.
‘It’s time we put a stop to it,’ they said.
‘Then may I make a suggestion?’ asked the Fox, and he outlined a plan to which all the other animals agreed.
Some time later, the Fox went to the Badger and said:
‘O, Badger, please help us! You are, without doubt, the best-looking creature in the Wild Wood. It’s not just your coat (which is exceedingly beautiful and without a blemish) but it is also… oh… the way you walk on your hind legs… the way you hold your head up… your superb manners and graceful ways… Won’t you help us humbler animals by giving us lessons in how to improve our looks and how to carry ourselves?’
Well, the Badger was thrilled to hear all these compliments and he replied very graciously: ‘Of course, my dear Fox. I’ll see what I can do.’
So the Fox called all the animals to meet in the Great Glade, and said to them: ‘Badger, here, has kindly agreed to give us lessons in how to look as handsome as he does. He will also instruct us in etiquette, deportment and fashion.’
There were one or two sniggers amongst the smaller animals at this point, but the Badger didn’t notice. He stood up on his hind legs, puffed himself up with pride, and said: ‘I am very happy to be in a position to help you less fortunate animals, and I must say I can see much room for improvement. You, Wolf, for example, have such a shabby coat… ’
‘But it’s the only one I’ve got!’ said the Wolf.
‘And I pity you, Beaver,’ went on the Badger, ‘such an ordinary pelt you have… and as for that ridiculous tail… ’
‘Er, Badger,’ interrupted the Fox, ‘rather than going through all our shortcomings (interesting and instructive though that certainly may be), why don’t you teach us how to walk with our noses in the air – the way that makes you look so distinguished and sets off your beautiful unblemished white coat so well?’
‘By all means,’ said the Badger.
‘Why not walk to the other end of the Glade, so we can see?’ said the Fox.
‘Certainly,’ said the Badger. And so, without suspecting a thing, he started to walk to the other end of the Glade.
Now if the Badger had not been so blinded by his own self-satisfaction, he might have noticed the Rat and the Stoat and the Weasel smirking behind their paws. And if he had looked a little closer, he might have noticed a twinkle in many an animal’s eye. But he didn’t. He just swaggered along on his hind legs with his nose right up in the air, saying: ‘This is the way to walk… notice how gracefully I raise my back legs… and see how I am always careful to keep my brush well ooooooooaaaarrr-ggggghhhup!’
This is the moment that the Badger discovered the Fox’s plan. The Fox had got all the other animals to dig a deep pit at one end of the Great Glade. This they had filled with muddy water and madder-root, and then covered it over with branches and fern.
The Badger, with his nose in the air, had, of course, walked straight into it – feet first. And he sank in – right up to his neck.
‘Help!’ he cried. ‘Help! My beautiful white coat! Please pull me out someone! Help!’
Well, of course, all the animals in the Glade laughed and pointed at the poor Badger, as he struggled to keep his head out of the muck. Eventually he had to pull himself out by his own efforts.
When the Badger looked down at his beautiful white coat, stained with mud and madder-root, he was so mortified that he ran off out of the forest with a pitiful howl. And he ran and he ran until he came to a lake of crystal water.
There he tried to clean the stuff off his coat, but madder-root is a powerful dye, and no matter what he did, he could not get it off.
‘What shall I do?’ he moaned to himself. ‘My beautiful white coat… my pride and joy… ruined for ever! How can I hold my head up in the forest again?’
To make matters worse, at that moment, a creature whom the Badger had never seen before swam up to him and said: ‘What are you doing – washing your filthy old coat in our crystal-clear lake? Push off!’
The badger was speechless – not only because he wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, but also because the creature had such a beautiful coat. It was as white and unblemished as the Badger’s own coat used to be.
‘Who are you?’ asked the Badger.
‘I’m Swan of course,’ replied the Swan. ‘Now shove off! We don’t want dirty creatures like you around here!’ And the Swan rose up on its legs and beat its powerful wings, and the badger slunk away on all fours, with his tail between his legs.
For the rest of that day, the Badger hid himself away in a grove overlooking the crystal lake. From there he gazed down at the white swan, gliding proudly about the lake, and the Badger was so filled with bitterness and envy that he thought he would burst.
That very night, however, he stole down to the Swan’s nest, when the Swan was fast asleep, and very, very gently, he pulled out one of the Swan’s feathers and then scuttled back to his hiding-place.
He did the same thing the next night, and the next and the next, and each night he returned to the grove, where he was busy making himself a new coat of white feathers, to cover up his stained fur.
And, because the Badger did all this so slowly and slyly, the Swan never noticed, until all but one of his feathers had disappeared.
That night the Swan couldn’t sleep, because of the draught from where his feathers were missing, and so it was that he saw the Badger creeping up to steal the last one. As he did so the Swan rose up with a terrible cry. He pecked off the Badger’s tail and beat him with his wings and chased him off.
Then the Swan returned to the crystal lake, and sat there lamenting over his lost feathers.
When the Maker Of All Things found the Swan – that he had made so beautiful – sitting there bald and featherless, he was extremely surprised.
But he was even more surprised when he went to the Wild Wood, and found the Badger parading about, looking quite ridiculous in his stolen feather coat!
‘Badger!’ exclaimed the Maker Of All Things. ‘I knew you were vain, but I didn’t know you were a thief as well!’
And there and then he took the feathers and gave them back to the Swan.
‘From this day on,’ he said to the Badger, ‘you will wear only your coat stained with madder-root. And, if you’re going to steal, I’d better give you a thief’s mask as well!’
And the Maker Of All Things drew his fingers across the Badger’s eyes, and left him with two black stripes – like a mask – from ears to snout.
The Badger was so ashamed that he ran off and hid, and to this very day all badgers avoid company. They live in solitude, stealing a little bit here and there, wherever they can. And each and every badger still wears a mask of stripes across its eyes.