The Story of
The Wolf and the
Seven Little Goats


(Brothers Grimm)
Once upon a time, there was a Mother Goat who had seven little kids.  They lived in a cozy little cottage at the edge of the woods.  One day, it happened that Mother Goat had to run some errands, so she called her kids together and asked them to be good children and bade the older ones to keep an eye on the youngest ones.  She warned them most sternly about the big bad wolf who had been seen in the neighbourhood.  He was known to be especially wiley ... and always very, very hungry.  Never, never, she warned them, should they open the door to anyone without making sure it was their mother.

The kids promised everything that was asked of them and Mother Goat was soon on her way.  They really were good little kids ... the older ones read stories and sang songs with the younger ones to pass the time.

Then there was a knock one the door.

"Let me in, children, your mother has returned!"

But the oldest, being very brave, shouted at him through the locked door that with his deep voice, he could never be mistaken for their mother.  They knew all too well who that was outside the door!

Through the window, they watched him trott off, much to their relief.

The wolf was disappointed but not discouraged.  He remembered that he had heard somewhere if one ate some chalk, that would give you a much higher voice.  No sooner thought than done.

Again, he knocked on the door of the goats' cottage and this time, his voice fooled the kids.  Well, almost ... for he had absentmindedly put his paw on the window sill, and his paw was a deep black, whereas Mother Goat's paw was a beautiful snowy white.  Again, the kids let him know that he didn't fool them for a moment!

The wolf was now disgruntled, but not beaten.  He was, after all, a very wiley fellow -- with supper on his mind!  After some thought, he limped to the local baker's and begged for a bit of dough so he might wrap his paw which he claimed he injured on some thorns.  The baker, being a goodhearted fellow, took pity on the wolf and wrapped a thin layer of dough around the "injured" paw.  And as the baker turned his back, the wolf manage to coat it with a good dusting of flour.

Again he went to the cottage.  Again he claimed that mother had return.  The kids, emboldened by their previous success, demanded that whoever was outside put their paw to the window so they could make sure it was a beautifull white.

And so they were fooled and opened the door.

We won't dwell upon what happened subsequently in the cottage, except to say that the littlest one managed to hide herself ... in the confusion, she slipped inside the grandfather clock.

Soon thereafter, Mother Goat return.  The poor woman, already suspecting some calamity because she had noted from quite a ways off that the cottage door stood wide open, was beside herself when she entered ... what a mess!  Hardly a piece of furniture that wasn't overturned, the curtains ripped ... dishes broken.  But the worst of it was that she could find none of her children.  When her wailing died down, she finally heard a scared little voice coming from the grandfather clock.

While her happiness at finding her youngest was great, they now set out to find the rest of the children.

The wolf, meanwhile, belly full of little goats, had fallen asleep in the grass.  He wasn't hard to find, all one had to do was follow the sounds of his mighty snore.  Mother Goat didn't think twice; with a big knife, she cut open his belly ... and out came her missing children, all six of them, shaken but basically unharmed.  In his greed, the wolf had swallowed them whole!  Quickly, they gathered up large stones, filled the wolf's belly with them, and with her sewing needle, Mother Goat set about sewing everything back up.

Not long thereafter, the wolf awoke.  He groggily dragged himself up and found that he had a raging thirst.  As he made his way to the stream for a drink, he sure wondered about what was going on in his belly, because he knew he had eaten well ... six little kids he had for his supper, yet with every step, it felt like there were rocks slamming back and forth in his insides.

It was tough going for the wolf, but his thirst drove him on.  Soon, he was bent over the water to take a good long drink but wouldn't you know ... the rocks pulled him down ... he fell into the water and was unable to return to dry land because the weight of the rocks was just too much ....

And so the big bad wolf who liked little kids for supper drowned.

At the goats' cottage, there was much cheering ... life would be so much more pleasant without the big bad wolf around!  And wouldn't you know ... they all lived happily ever after :-)
If there ever was a person sick and tired of a faery tale, it must have
been my Grandma Betty.  Wish I had a nickel for every time she had
to tell the story of "Der Wolf und die Sieben Geisslein" ... night after
night, word for word ... thank goodness Grandma Betty was a trooper!
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