Why Pigs Have Curly Tails

Why Pigs Have Curly Tails THERE was once a fairy who fell into a bramble-bush. It was a very closely grown bush, and she could not get out. She was sadly scratched, and the thorns caught her tiny delicate wings and tore her pretty frail dress into shreds. The bramble-bush formed part of a hedge which ran along the side of an orchard, and presently a horse came sauntering up to the hedge. “Oh, please help me, sir,” said the fairy. “I’m caught in a bramble-bush, and can’t get out.” The horse came and looked at her. “That’s a nasty place to be in,” he said. “What will you give me if I get you out?” “I’ll give you a golden halter and a silver bit,” said the fairy. The horse shook his head. “It’s not worth it,” he said. “I should scratch my face. My master loves me for my beautiful satin skin, and I really can’t risk spoiling my appearance. Besides, I have some very nice harness of my own. He sees to that. Sorry I can’t be of any assistance.” And he ambled away. A little later a robin perched on the bramble-bush. “Oh, please, Mr. Robin, won’t you come and help me?” said the fairy. “I can’t get out.” “What will you give me,” said the robin, “if I help you out?” “I’ll give you a jacket of gold and slippers of silver,” said the fairy. “Thank you very much,” said the robin, “but I don’t think that’s quite my style. I have a nice red waistcoat already and I should hate to look gaudy. Besides, I’m tremendously busy. I’ve got a young family to look after, and my wife doesn’t like me to be away long.” And he flew off. There were sheep grazing in the field on the[38] other side of the hedge, and one of them came munching close to the bramble-bush. “Oh, please, Mrs. Sheep,” said the fairy, “can you help me out of here?” “What will you give me if I do?” said the sheep. “I will teach you to sing as the fairies sing,” said the fairy. “I will also give you wisdom.” For she was getting more and more anxious, and she thought such lovely gifts would tempt the sheep. But the sheep stared stupidly with her glassy eyes. “That’s all very well,” she replied, “but I happen to have a very nice voice naturally and can already sing rather well. As for wisdom, I don’t quite know what that is, but I don’t think it sounds very interesting. I’d help you gladly, but the thorns would tear my fine woollen coat, and that would never do. Surely a fine woollen coat is worth much more than wisdom.” And she moved away. The fairy was beginning to despair; she thought she would never, never be able to get back to Fairyland. But just as she had given up hope, a pig came wandering past, making ugly noises and staring about with his little blue eyes. He spied the fairy sitting in the midst of the bramble-bush with her head down on her knees. “What’s the matter?” said the pig. The fairy raised her head and saw the pig’s ugly pink snout poking in between the bramble-twigs. “I think I can get you out,” he said, when she had told him her trouble. “I’m not much to look at, but I’ve got a good tough hide, and at any rate I shan’t be afraid of a few scratches spoiling my beauty.” So with a good many snuffles and grunts he pushed his head and shoulders well into the middle of the bush and made a clear way for the fairy to get out. She gave a sigh of relief when she found herself once more free and in the clear sunshine, and the pig stood and looked at her admiringly, for she was a dear little thing. He was so conscious of his ugliness beside her pretty grace that he turned away and started off down the orchard. “Don’t go—oh, don’t go,” said the fairy. The pig turned round. “You’ve not had your reward,” said the fairy. “I don’t want any reward, thank you,” grunted the pig, and moved on. But the fairy persisted. She flew after him. “You must have a reward,” she said. “I shall be most unhappy if you don’t.” “But I don’t want anything, thank you,” said the pig. “I have been very glad to help you.” The fairy stood in front of him, anxiously pondering as to what she could possibly give him that might be of any use. Nobody seemed to want her fairy gifts. She looked him up and down. “Wouldn’t you like something—something to make you more beautiful?” she said. She really meant less ugly, but she was so grateful to the pig that she was very anxious not to hurt his feelings, and so she put it that way. “I’m afraid it’s rather hopeless,” said the pig, with half a smile. “You see, I’m such an ugly fellow. You’d have to alter me all over.” “But surely—a little something ...” said the fairy, and she looked at him more thoughtfully than ever. Now all this happened a very long time ago, when pigs had quite straight tails like most of the other animals, and suddenly, looking at his tail, the fairy had an idea. “I know, I know,” she said. “You shall have a curly tail. It will be an immense improvement, and so uncommon.” The pig looked rather pleased. “Well, have your own way,” he said. “I can’t see my own tail, in any case, but I dare say it wouldn’t look bad.” So the fairy touched the pig’s tail with her wand, and it instantly curled up into nice little rings. Ever since that day pigs have had curly tails, and now you know how they came by this beautiful adornment.