Peter lived in the middle of a large forest clearing, in an old cottage with his grandfather and his grandfather's large bushy eyebrows. Early one mourning, Peter opened the gate and went out into the big green meadow. On the branch of an old birch tree nearby was a little yellow bird. The bird was Peter's friend.

"Ve~, everything is quiet!" chirped the bird happily. He quickly flew around Peter's head. They loved to play together in the meadow.

Soon, another bird appeared, it was a duck. It was glad Peter had left the gate open, so it decided to take a swim in the pond that was in the meadow.

Seeing the duck, the bird flew down, and said, "Ve~, what kind of a bird are you, that you cannot fly?" to which the duck replied, "Vhat kind of a bird are you, if you cannot svim?" and dived to the bottom.

They argued and argued. The duck swimming in the pond, the little bird hopping around the bank.

Suddenly, something caught Peter's attention. It was his grandfather's pet, a cat to be exact. He was slinking through the grass.

The cat thought, 'Ze bird is busy arguing with ze duck, I'll just grab him!'

Stealthily, he crept towards the bird with ready claws.

"LOOK OUT!" Shouted Peter, and the bird flew up the tree.

The duck quacked angrily at the cat . . . from the middle of the pond.

The cat walked around the tree and thought, 'Is it really worth ze climb up zere? By ze time I get up to zat branch, ze bird will surly have flown away.'

Hearing all this commotion, Peter's grandfather came out, he was furious, because Peter had gone past the gate and into the meadow. "You little git! It's a dangerous place out there! If a wolf had come into the clearing, what then?"

Peter paid no attention to this, declaring, "Boys like me aren't afraid of wolves!"

Grandfather took Peter by the hand, led him home, and locked the gate fast.

Indeed, at that very moment, an enormous silver wolf emerged from the forest. He had seen the boy. His blood red eyes glinted in the sunlight. He ran his slick tongue over his sharp teeth, thinking how good the boy and his companions would taste.

The cat caught sight of him, and quickly ran up the tree.

The duck quacked and in it's excitement, jumped out of the pond. But no matter how hard the duck tried, the wolf ran faster.

He was getting nearer.

Nearer.

Catching up with the duck.

And then he caught it and in one gulp, swallowed him.

So this is how things stood; the cat was sitting on one branch, the little bird on another (not too close to the cat, mind you), and the wolf walked round and round the tree, looking at them with red, greedy eyes.

Peter, seeing this, climbed over the high stone wall and onto a branch of the tree.

"Psst, Bird!" Peter whispered, "Can you distract him long enough by flying around his head?"

The bird nearly touched the wolf's head with his wings, but the bird was too fast. The wolf snapped and swiped at the bird. Oh, how the bird did worry the wolf. Oh, how the wolf wanted to catch the bird, but the bird was too clever, and there was nothing the wolf could do about it.

All the while, Peter carefully slipped a rope down around the wolf's tail. As soon as it was as far as it could go, Peter pulled up with all his strength. The rope tightened round the base of the wolf's tail. This, catching the wolf off guard, caused the wolf to jump about with fright, the jump only making the rope tighter. Soon, they had the wolf hanging from the tree by his tail.

At this moment, three hunters came put of the woods.

The first was a large man with blonde, slicked back hair and piercing blue eyes. He carried with him a large stick that he had named Heir Shïk.

The second was a woman with long brown hair, she wielded an iron frying pan.

The third was a young man with dirty blonde hair. It was surprising the animals and Peter had not heard him earlier, because this hunter was shooting off his guns in random directions and proclaiming he was a hero.

When the third hunter caught sight of the wolf, he aimed to shoot at it.

"No! Please! Don't shoot!" Shouted Peter, "The bird and I have already caught the wolf. Please, take it to the zoo."

So the hunters bound the wolf's hands and feet together, and congratulated Peter on his fine catch.

"Ve~, what fine fellows Peter and I are!" Cheered the bird, "Look what we've caught!"

On the other side of the gate was grandfather, "And what if the little wanker hadn't caught the wolf? What then?"

And, if you had been there and listened very carefully, you could hear the duck quacking inside the wolf's stomach.