Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a crocodile. His home was a small oval pond, not very deep. He was rather a nice crocodile, for he shared his pond with a number of animals. Frogs, for instance, were very fine companions. Never once he thought of eating them.
Big mammals would also go and have a sip. The largest one to go there was an African elephant which nearly drank the whole pond. Fortunately it rained the day after and all went well.
This was a young crocodile. He was born shortly before the rain season, never having experienced unpleasantness, like thirst. After the rain season, however, came the dry season, and along with it, bright yellow copper covered the landscape. The water began to vanish from rivers and pools until finally his home pond started shrinking. The frogs where the first ones to die, their skins went pale and crispy as they said goodbye. The poor Crocodile shed his first crocodile, yet earnest, tears.
Soon he was alone in what was left of the pond, a little bit of water enough to cover his body. He craned around and saw nothing but hot waving air. This was not the time for crying, he realised, this was the time for thinking, and remembered his mother words: “Rumours are that if you walk straight in any direction you’ll reach the sea”. The Crocodile had never seen the sea, but figured it was something good to drink. No time to loose. Keeping the sun over his left side, he walked straight for seven days and seven nights, never stopping, never looking back. By dawn, on the eighth day, he found something wonderful. Dragging his scratched paws, enduring a last effort, he dived in a cool large pond. So big that in his heart there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that this was the sea. He saw other crocodiles too, which welcomed him together with zebras, giraffes, lizards and frogs. Even the elephants could drink all they wanted and the pool would remain the same. The water was infinite, the crocodile thought. And he was happy.
