One winter the weather turned so cold that there was little to eat for any of the animals. That even included Renard, the crafty red fox.

Renard moped and moaned. He slunk around the frozen land, seeking something, anything to eat. One day he found a flock of hens outside of the monastery. He looked around; no one was in sight. So Renard gobbled up two big fat hens.

Oh, what good eating! But it made him very thirsty. The rivers were frozen solid. So Renard trotted to the monastery's well. He looked down and in a circle of water at the bottom, he saw another sly-eyed red fox staring up at him.

Renard, you see, did not know about reflections. He barked insults down at the fox. And the fox barked insults back.

Renard growled. Then he saw a bucket dangling on a pulley rope. "I'll just ride down there to chat with this nasty fellow," he said to himself.

He scrambled into the bucket and down, down, down he went. In the meantime, the empty bucket that had been at the bottom rattled up past him.

Renard's bucket stopped just at the water's surface. "Brrr," he said. It was colder down there than he thought. He shivered as he sat in his bucket, wondering how he could possibly get out?

Wouldn't you know it, just then Renard's arch enemy, Wolf, trotted into the monastery yard. Wolf leaned against the well to rest. He, too, was very hungry. Just like Renard, Wolf looked down. And just like Renard, he thought his reflection must be a rival.

"I should be the leader of the pack," the "wolf" in the well shouted.

"So, they're down there, plotting against me," Wolf said to himself.

"If I get my paws on you, you'll be sorry," Wolf shouted down.

Renard sat very still and didn't say a word. He listened to Wolf hurl insults down the well, then he called out:

"Dear Wolf, don't work yourself into — such a lather. It's your old enemy Renard down here. Remember me? Renard the trickster who used to play so many practical jokes? But you don't have to worry about me anymore. You may not believe me, Wolf, but I'm dead."

"That's some comfort," Wolf said. "I never did like you, Renard. How is it that you came to the happy hunting ground? That is to say, I mean, how long have you been, um, dead?"

This was not a word Wolf liked to use.

"Not too long, as it happens," Renard replied. "It was a surprise to me, too. But after all, ours is not to reason why. And by the way, Wolf, I do hope now that I've traveled to a far, far better place, you'll forgive me for all the terrible things I did to you in life."

"Well," Wolf said, "I suppose I can forgive you now."

"Oh, joy," Renard crooned.

"How can you be joyful?" Wolf asked. "I thought you were dead. Isn't that the worst thing that can ever happen?"

"No, no, not at all," Renard cried. "I only feel sorry for all you creatures stuck up there on Earth. Down here I live in glorious fields full of plump, lazy sheep. I never had it so good. It really is heavenly down here, dear Wolf."

"I always thought heaven was up, not down," "Wolf said.

"Shows you how little you know. Oh, if only you could see these beautiful meadows full of tender young lambs!"

Wolf groaned. "I wish I could be down there," he said. "Down here with me. Wolf?" Renard answered. "After all those jokes I've played on you? You ARE forgiving!

"But to be allowed in heaven you have to be absolutely sorry for all your wickedness. Are you absolutely sorry?"

"Oh, yes!" Wolf cried.

"Hmmm," said Renard. "Trouble is, the only way to paradise is by bucket."

"You mean this empty bucket right here?" Wolf asked.

"A clever invention, it is," said Renard. "You probably can already see these bountiful fields! Can you hear that beautiful angel music? Now all you have to do is hop into that bucket."

Wolf struggled to fit into the bucket: first his front legs, then his back legs, with his tail hanging over the side. Since he was much heavier than Renard, his bucket plunged to the bottom and Renard's bucket shot upward.

"Renard, why are you going up?" Wolf cried as they passed.

"Don't worry," said Renard. "It's all part of the system. When one soul goes down, another must go up. I go up to Paradise and you go to the Devil."

As soon as the bucket reached the top, Renard leaped out and ran to his home. And Wolf sat in the bottom of the well, feeling cold and hungry and badly betrayed.

Before long one of the monks came to fetch some water. He pulled on the bucket, but it was so heavy he called three more monks to help him. And then they brought the monastery donkey. They tied the donkey to the rope and he tugged and pulled. When they saw Wolf rising from the bottom, the monks cried out: "Gracious me, there's a wolf in our well!"

They dashed to the monastery to fetch all of the holy brothers, along with hoes and rakes and the great pewter candelabra. They all pulled on the bucket until it reached the top. Wolf scrambled out and began to run, with the monks in hot pursuit, waving their hoes and rakes and the great pewter candelabra. When the frightened Wolf saw that, he fainted. The monks dragged poor Wolf's body away and flung it into the prickly bushes.

Soon afterward, Wolf awakened and began to lick his wounds just as his son trotted by. "Poor Father," he said, "what happened to you?"

"Oh, son," groaned Wolf, "Renard betrayed me. He lured me down a well, then the monks beat me up when I got out." Just thinking of his terrible adventure made Wolf's head throb.

So his son helped him hobble home.

Meanwhile, Renard was back with his family eating a chicken supper, for he had stolen yet another. "This is the closest thing to heaven there is," Renard chuckled. "Wolf may be bigger and stronger but there's not a creature on Earth as smart as I am."

*****

This French tale was adapted by Amy Friedman. Copyright 1995 Universal Press Syndicate. From The Milwaukee Journal, January 29, 1995