THERE is no doubt that fishermen...the last of the free, are now a hunted species as far as urban man is concerned. The gulf between the salaried system dependant man, whether bureaucrat or corporate employee and the go as he will fisher has never been greater. But, it is nothing new and the story that follows here is as old a fable as Europe itself. The French writer Jean de la Fontaine wrote it up in poem to make this very point and did so at a time when it wasn't too safe to say such things directly. The truth of it remains unaltered.
It was one of those terrible hard European winters and the wolf was starving. Magdeburg, Warsaw, Orleans...there was nothing worth eating and that's why he'd ended up in this wood above a little French town rummaging for something worth eating. This thing rustled and fell out of a hedge. "What the hell are you supposed to be?" said our wolf looking at something that looked vaguely familiar but smelt of shampoo. "I'm a dog, a poodle" said the dog for he was indeed such a thing. "What are you?" and the wolf informed him of his wolf status. The dog was much impressed, having heard about wolves but never having met one. One question after another did he ask the wolf about his life.
"It's not a bad life" he said, "I get to travel a lot, as I please, you know, Paris, Lubjana, Gdansk...all those sort of places, eat a few sheep, chickens if I feel like it, just please myself really but it's bloody awful this winter...I have hardly eaten a thing bar some bird in a red cloak and she was all gristle."
The poodle was amazed and impressed; all that travel. Just like that. "Amazing" he said "and no one to tell you what to do, it sounds terrific." Our wolf agreed and out of politeness asked the poodle about his CV.
Waving a paw, the poodle pointed to the mansion all lit up just below the hill. "That's my place, it's very nice...all fully heated and I get two din dins every day and the master is very nice to me...I get titbits too and lie in front of the fire." "Wow" said our wolf, "that's terrific, how do you get to be a dog I wonder, what a scam." He paused, then he asked the poodle "What are you doing up here in the freezing cold on a night like this then?"
The poodle looked a bit guilty and ashamed as he answered. "Well, most nights, the master puts my lead and collar on and takes me for walkies and tonight, I managed to slip my collar and escaped up here for a poke around and a bit of this and that."
The wolf was totally mystified. "What's a collar, what's a lead?" he asked, not having the faintest idea about such things and not even having heard the words before. The poodle explained. Wolfi listened and with the words "I'd rather go bleeding hungry" made off for Silesia at top speed.
Yes, verily...the gap between the fishermen and the poodles is indeed very great is it not?