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The woolly mammoths were performing their spring ballet to the music being cranked out by the cosmic organ grinder. Their movements were careful, controlled and extraordinarily graceful. Yet, despite the delicacy of their steps, the vibrations the mammoths produced were causing thousands of earthworms to wriggle to the surface, fleeing the enormous mole they feared was coming their way.
Once the worms had taken in the sight of the mammoths pirouetting and glissading gigantically before them, they were even more terrified than they had been when imagining the size of the mole they’d thought was about to eat them up. But when the older, more experienced worms arrived (the ones who had developed the habit of turning up a little later than everybody else in order to outwit any early birds who might be around) they soon reassured their nervous young colleagues.
“Fear not!” they told them. “It is the Magnificent Mammoth Ballet! Nothing to worry about; it’s really quite a sight to see. We are very lucky to be here today. Just keep your eyes out for those blackbirds loitering over there.”
So the worms stayed to watch, swaying to the music and smiling with real wonder at the spectacle. They needn’t have worried about the blackbirds, who might at first have appeared to be loitering menacingly, but who were actually gazing at the Mammoth Ballet too, just as tightly spellbound by it as their erstwhile prey.
And this was the remarkable thing about the Magnificent Mammoth Ballet. It was the only instance in nature when all the creatures of the world would stop what they were doing, put instinct on hold for a few moments, and just enjoy a great piece of musical theatre. Was it art? Was it merely entertainment? Who cared! It was the greatest spectacle on earth.
However, there was one animal who never showed much interest in the woolly mammoths’ display, and that animal was Man. Because at that time in history, while the rest of the world was captivated by the Magnificent Mammoth Ballet, Man spent his days looking at his reflection in lakes and rivers and trying to decide if he really was as good looking as he suspected he was. He certainly was, he decided every single time, but the satisfaction he got from this conclusion never stayed with him for very long and he always had to go back for another look, just to make sure.
Then one day, quite suddenly and without a word to anyone, the mammoths disappeared from the world. Nobody knew where they’d gone but each animal had their own theory. The earthworms said that the mammoths had grown tired of living on the cold and inhospitable outer shell of the Earth and used their trunks (which, as the worms pointed out, were ideal tools for digging) to burrow down to the centre of the planet where it was safe and warm, and where they’d finally be able to take off those shabby fur coats they’d been wearing for so long.
The blackbirds thought this was nonsense and that it was much more likely that the mammoths had at last mastered the art of flight (a feat for which, the birds maintained, the mammoths had been in training with every grand jeté and sissonne they had ever performed) and migrated to the sun where it was safe and warm, and where they’d finally be able to take off those shabby fur coats they’d been wearing for so long.
Whatever the truth was, one thing almost all the animals agreed upon was that they felt very sad they’d never get to see the mammoths dance again. As before, Man was the only exception. He said he didn’t care one way or the other. In fact, he claimed, the only significant thing he’d noticed about the mammoths when they were around was their “terrible stink” – and that, he made clear to anyone who asked, was something he could definitely live without.
Yet, despite his harsh words Man did begin to feel sad after the mammoths left, and he grew sadder and sadder as the years went by, though he didn’t understand why this was. He certainly never connected the onset of his sorrow with the disappearance from the world of the woolly mammoth.
The animals had their theory however. And this time they were all in exact agreement, worm and bird alike. Man was sad, they whispered to each other, sadder than they could ever be – inconsolable, in fact - because he hadn’t seen the Magnificent Mammoth Ballet when he’d had the chance. And now he never would.
‘The Magnificent Mammoth Ballet’ written by Benjamin Palmer
Illustrations by Jordi Llobet
A Spanish translation of the story, also by Jordi, can be seen on his own magnificent blogspot!
Se puede leer una traducción en español del cuento, también hecha por Jordi, en su magnifico blogspot!
