I’m a young red Fox,

I’m a smart guy.

Ducks and chicks are scared of me,

I think you know why!

I’m fond of rapping,

And also playing ball.

I am only five months old,

But I’m quite tall!

Hi! I’m Freddy the Fox. I live in the forest, in a deep cosy den. I’m red and fluffy. Mum says I’m handsome. What do you think?

This is my mum. She is graceful, beautiful and kind. Mummy takes care of us all the time, especially when my Dad is out. I love her a lot, because she is nice and fair. She never scolds me without clearing the matter up.

‘Are you fighting again, boys? Stop it at once! What will Father say?’ she says.

We aren’t listening, because we are both injured and angry. Brother’s ear hurts and I’m rubbing my neck.

‘Why should I? He started first!’

‘Lies! It was you who attacked me!’

Mother comes up, puts us apart and says, ‘Speak in turns.’

‘Fred has bitten my ear!’

‘And you have squeezed my neck!’

My brother is rather strong, a bit older than me and always boasts of it, then we usually fight. Today it has happened again. He has started teasing me, I have called him a fool and he has attacked me.

The mother hugs us and says, ‘You make me sad, boys! You are brothers, you have to stand for each other!’

Here comes my father. We dash to meet him! My Dad is good-tempered and wise. He knows each animal, path, ditch and den in our forest. I love listening to his stories!

‘Here are my dear boys! Were you good?’ Dad asks. I only manage to open my mouth to tell him the whole truth, when my sister appears! Yes, unfortunately, there are three of us!

My sister is very pretty. She can cast charming glances and look nice and obedient. But she is the first to make a mess and get us into trouble!

‘Not half, daddy! How could they be, if they fight every single day?’ she declares. ‘They also call each other names and say bad words!’

‘Look who’s talking!’ I am outraged.

‘Exactly! It is you, who starts first!’ my brother says.

‘And calls us names!’ I add.

‘Liars!’ Fiona says and pretends to get offended. She covers her eyes with paws as if crying.

‘What I hear?’ Mother decides to interfere. She hugs Fiona and shakes her head sadly.

‘Do you think boys should act like that? Look, you have brought a poor girl to tears! Come up at once and apologize, both of you!’ Father growls.

Dad always takes her side, because she is a girl! I constantly tell him to watch her for a while and realize she is not as innocent as she looks! Father doesn’t want to listen. He frowns and waits.

Of course, we do as we are told, then Mum and Dad hug us. It looks like we, I mean the kids, are friends again. Behind our parents’ back, Fiona sticks out a tongue and makes faces at us. Brother and I aren’t better either! We show her our fists and bare our teeth.

Later, when everything becomes quiet, and mum has kissed us goodnight, a storytime comes. The scary ones are my favourite! They are so thrilling! Daddy tells us about traps and bad people called hunters, cruel and skillful. They’ve got rifles with telescopic sights. Our sister is always scared, trembling like a leaf. We, boys, aren’t at all! Well… Maybe just a little. Father doesn’t want to frighten us, but to keep us safe. We respect him and try to be careful.

Oh, the names!

Mummy’s name’s Flora,

Daddy’s name’s Finn,

Sister’s name’s Fiona,

Brother’s name’s Flynn!

It’s a warm summer day I am playing in the field catching butterflies. I am jumping higher and higher, but that is no good! The butterflies flutter from flower to flower and chuckle, because they turn out to be much faster than me. I start dreaming…

I wish I were a butterfly,

That flutters in the air,

And dances in the field

On flowers here and there.

I wish I flew up high,

And soaring touched the sun!

Why do I have no wings?

It would be great fun!

The pollen from the disturbed flowers is in the air everywhere and I start sneezing. Suddenly my nose touches another one. It is black like mine but a bit bigger. After the nose, there appears a black head with pointed ears and a goatee, black front legs, a black body, black hind legs and a short tail, also black. ‘Buds and flowers! A dog!’

I realize.

He smiles and says, ‘Bless you!’ I am a bit scared and don’t answer. I have never seen a dog so close before. Father has warned me not to approach dogs, especially when they bare their teeth.

My new friend looks friendly, his front lowered, tail up, and a broad smile on his face! I am so happy to have company! We play tag, roll in the grass and jump over stones. When we stop to drink from a stream I say, ‘I’m Freddy, by the way. And you?’

‘Rufus! Rufus! Where are you?’ ‘Get over here!’

‘Sorry, must run now! My masters are calling me!’ my new acquaintance says. ‘You might come to visit me one day. I live there, in the village.’ I nod and he runs away. This is how our friendship has begun.

On coming home, I decide to ask my mum about a chance to become a butterfly one day.

‘Could I ever be a butterfly, Mum?’ Mother shakes her head. ‘Even if I try hard?’

‘I’m sorry, Fred, I don’t think so.’

‘It’s not fair!’ I say and frown.

‘Why do you want that?’

‘Well, they fly everywhere and eat sweet pollen…’ I say dreamily.

‘Would you like to feed on pollen?’ Mother seems puzzled.

‘I’m not sure, but if I turned into a butterfly…’ It appears we aren’t alone. My sister and brother are eavesdropping as usual.

‘One, two, three! Freddy, look at me!’ Fiona turns around and waves her tail as if casting a spell. ‘Orange, red and blue – your dream has come true! Now you are a beautiful butterfly!’

‘Fancy to practice flying now?’ Flynn asks, nudging me with his nose.

‘That’s enough, children! Time for dinner!’ Mother says.

‘Don’t bother feeding Fred, Mum, butterflies don’t eat meat!’ my sister exclaims.

‘Yep! I’ll eat up his share with pleasure!’ my brother adds.

‘Fiona, Flynn, please stop it!’ Mother orders. ‘What will Father say?’

He comes soon and it seems they will stop laughing at me at once, but I am mistaken.

‘Are my red fluffies doing well?’ Father asks.

Fiona gives a wink to Flynn and says, ‘Two of us are great, Dad, but Fred…’

‘What’s up, son?’ he asks, turning to me. ‘And stop laughing, please, I’m tired and want some rest.’ It is clear they won’t. How could they miss a chance to mock me and have fun?