The Jackal Who Wore a Crown

The jackals of the forest gathered beneath a chinar tree.

"The lions have a leader," said one.

"So do the wolves," said another.

"Then we should have one too!" cried a third.

Everyone turned toward the oldest jackal. His whiskers were silver, and he had told more stories than any other animal in the forest.

"You have lived the longest," the jackals said. "You must know how to lead us."

The old jackal liked the sound of that.

The others prepared him for a grand ceremony. They coloured a patch of his fur blue so everyone would recognize him. Around his neck they fastened a wide winnowing fan that looked, from a distance, like a splendid collar. On his head they balanced a crown woven from willow twigs.

The new king admired his reflection in a pond.

"Being a leader suits me," he said.

The next morning he walked through the forest with the other jackals following behind.

Suddenly, a tiger stepped onto the path.

"Which of you has been taking fruit from beside my cave?" the tiger growled.

The jackals scattered into the bushes. Their king tried to follow, but his enormous collar caught between two branches. His crown slipped over one eye.

"Wait!" he called. "A king needs help!"

No one returned.

The tiger looked at the tangled jackal and began to laugh.

"What sort of forest creature wears a basket around his neck?"

"It is a royal collar," the jackal replied, trying to sound dignified.

The tiger freed him from the branches.

"If you are their leader," she said, "why did your followers run away? And why did you not stay to ask what happened?"

The old jackal had no answer. He had enjoyed the ceremony but had never asked what his new responsibility required.

He returned to the chinar tree carrying the crown beneath one paw.

"Friends," he said, "we chose a king before deciding what a leader should do. I wore the crown, but I did not listen, solve problems, or help anyone act together."

The jackals talked for a long time. They decided that no single animal needed to rule them. Instead, they formed a forest council. The best tracker would guide journeys. The most patient listener would settle quarrels. The bravest would give a warning when danger approached.

The old jackal became the keeper of stories. It was a task he understood and performed well.

As for the willow crown, the birds pulled it apart and used its twigs to strengthen their nests.