Beware,
for wolves come in many disguises.
Once upon a time, there was a boy called Peter.
He lived with his grandfather in a cottage,
with a garden surrounded by a high stone wall.
Outside the wall, there was a meadow,
with a pond and a tall tree.
Beyond the meadow was a deep, dark forest.
This is the story of Peter and The Wolf.
There was a bird, light and delicate,
with feathers of silk.
A silly duck with a broad bill and large webbed feet.
A pussycat.
She is smooth, but greedy and vain.
There is a big grey wolf
with sharp teeth and sharp claws,
who is always hungry.
There are hunters searching the woods,
firing their shotguns.
There is a wise old grandfather.
Now, he worries about Peter all the time.
And of course, there is Peter.
Now, this is where the story begins.
Early one morning,
when Peter walked out of the house,
he opened the gate
and went into the big green meadow.
On a branch of a tall tree
sat a pretty little bird.
"All is quiet and beautiful this morning,"
she said delicately.
The bird was Peter's friend.
Peter had an idea.
He'd seen something in his mother's old room
that would be perfect.
Just then, the silly duck waddled out.
She was glad the gate had been left open,
as there was a deep pond in the meadow,
and she wanted to swim.
Seeing the duck,
the bird flew down and sat next to her.
The bird, who was very sweet, said,
"What kind of a bird are you if you can't fly?"
"What kind of a bird are you..." the duck said snappily,
"if you can't swim?"
And with that,
she hurriedly dived into the pond.
All of this led to an argument.
They argued and argued.
The duck, as she splashed around in the water,
the bird flying this way and that.
Just then, something caught Peter's eye.
Pussy.
Pussy was stalking through the tall grass.
She thought to herself...
"That bird is busy arguing.
"I can probably get her now."
And on velvet paws,
she crept even closer.
"Look out!" shouted Peter.
Well, the duck quacked angrily...
from the middle of the pond.
Pussy walked round and round,
looking up at the bird and thinking...
"Is it worth climbing so high, I wonder.
"By the time I get there, she'd have flown away."
Here comes Grandfather.
He never liked Peter to go out into the meadow.
Not really the place for you, Grandson.
He said gravely.
You wouldn't know what's out there.
Wolves and worse. It's dangerous.
Peter, stay put.
Peter said nothing.
Of course, he wasn't afraid of wolves,
but then, he really couldn't argue with his grandfather.
"Go back to the house,"
said Grandfather.
Then he locked the gate securely.
No sooner had Peter gone,
than a big grey wolf
came out of the dark forest.
Pussy turned and saw the wolf.
In a twinkle, Pussy had scarpered up the tree.
And the duck quacked hysterically,
but in her panic,
foolishly jumped out of the pond.
The wolf saw the duck.
It went for her like a shot.
And no matter how hard,
how fast the duck tried to run, she could not escape.
The wolf in hot pursuit,
nearer and nearer,
catching up, catching up!
And it got the duck and swallowed her
hungrily, in one enormous gulp.
Now, this is how things stood.
Pussy was up a tree, sitting on one branch.
The bird in the same tree, on another branch...
but not too close to Pussy.
There was no great affection between them.
The wolf walked round and round beneath the tree,
staring at both of them with greedy eyes,
licking its lips.
Peter saw it all.
Thinking, "So the wolf wants to catch them.
"Not if I catch the wolf first.
"I'll trap the wolf. Yes!
"I'm not afraid of the big bad wolf."
So Peter found a strong rope,
which he wrapped round and round smoothly,
until he made a lasso.
He slipped it through his fingers
and tried one or two quick throws.
He went out noiselessly,
heaved himself up onto the stone wall
over which one of the branches of the tree stretched.
Silently, he climbed into the tree.
He whispered to the bird,
"Be a good little birdie.
"Fly down and tease the wolf a bit.
"Not too close.
"Just enough to keep it busy for a moment or two."
The bird obeyed and fluttered overhead,
almost touching the wolf.
The wolf leapt upwards,
snapping with huge sharp teeth.
Ever so gently,
Peter slipped the rope over the wolf's tail.
Then he pulled the rope with all his might.
Yes! The wolf was caught.
Caught by the tail, the wolf went berserk,
jumping wildly, trying to escape.
Then, Peter tied his end of the rope
to the tree.
The more the wolf struggled, the tighter the rope became!
"What do we do?"
said Peter.
Wolves come in many disguises.
The hunters came striding into the woods
on the trail of the wolf.
Their shotguns poised and ready.
"Stop shooting!"
Peter shouted.
But the hunters couldn't hear him.
Again he shouted.
Stop! Put away your guns.
Birdie and I have caught the wolf.
The hunters jumped for joy.
They boasted,
but they never thought to look closely
at the wolf in the sack.
And then...
The victory parade.
Peter at the head,
followed by the hunters leading the wolf.
And at the rear of the parade,
Pussy and Grandfather.
Now, nothing is ever the way they say it is.
Before the hunters arrived,
Peter and Grandfather had tricked them.
What the hunters thought was the wolf
was no wolf at all.
Above flew Birdie.
She was quite pleased with herself.
Now, this is where the story ends.
Are loved ones we've lost ever really gone?
If you listen carefully,
you might just hear their call.
There's nothing to be afraid of.