Why Mole Lives Underground – A Clever Animal Tale

Long ago, when animals still spoke and the sun hadn’t yet given every creature a home, Mole lived above the ground like many others. But Mole wasn’t like most creatures—he was greedy, sneaky, and obsessed with only one thing: baby bees for breakfast.

He’d climb trees just to get to the bees’ nest and scoop out their delicate young, licking them up with sweet golden honey. It was a dangerous meal, but Mole didn’t care. He had sharp front claws perfect for climbing, though his back legs were short and awkward. Still, every few weeks, hunger pushed him up that rough bark again.

One day, Mole began his usual climb up the old tree where the beehive buzzed with activity. His claws clinked against the bark as he dragged himself up, wedging his heavy body against the trunk. His hind legs scrambled to keep his bulk compressed—he knew better than to present a big target once the bees spotted him.

Above him, the smell of honey drifted in the air. His belly rumbled with anticipation. Just a little further…

But then—slip! His right paw lost grip and he hung by one claw, his heart pounding like a herd of stampeding elephants. He clung to the bark, pressing his cheek into the trunk, breathing hard. Eventually, he managed to stabilize himself and resumed the climb, slower this time, more cautious. He knew the bees would be waiting.

And indeed, they were.

Inside the hive, Queen Bee was furious. “Not this Mole again!” she shouted, slamming her mandibles. “Every few weeks he eats our children and destroys our hive. We lose bees to battle and time to repairs. He must be stopped.”

“But what can we do?” the guards buzzed.

Just then, a young drone stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I have an idea. Not a battle—a bargain.”

The queen raised a brow. “Speak, quickly.”

The young bee whispered his plan. It was risky, clever… and just might work.

Outside, Mole was surprised. He’d nearly reached the hive, and no swarm had attacked him. Instead, a single bee buzzed out and floated before him. Curious, Mole paused. He had never been so close to a bee without feeling their sting.

“You’re quite high up,” the bee said pleasantly, pointing to the ground far below. “Everything looks so small down there, doesn’t it?”

Against his better judgment, Mole glanced down. A sea of yellow flowers stretched beneath him, too far to jump and too high to fall. His stomach twisted. He pressed into the bark, claws trembling.

The bee flew closer. “Tell me, friend… why risk so much to climb so far?”

“I’m hungry,” Mole muttered. “Nothing tastes as good as baby bees with honey.”

“But you’re risking your life for food that fights back,” the bee said. “What if I told you there’s better food down there—tastier, easier, and sting-free?”

Mole narrowed his eyes. “Go on…”

The bee motioned for him to follow. “Climb down with me. I’ll show you.”

Mole hesitated, but his stomach answered with a growl. Carefully, awkwardly, he climbed down, the bee guiding him step by step. When his feet finally touched the ground, he collapsed, breathing hard, sweat beading on his snout.

The bee darted toward a deep root at the base of the tree. “Over here! I found something—a nest of fat worms. Juicy, earthy, perfect for a creature like you.”

Mole sniffed the air. His nose twitched. The scent was divine—rich and fresh.

“Just under this root,” said the bee, dancing excitedly. “Start digging!”

Mole clawed at the soil, but the dirt was packed and hard. His front claws, so good for climbing, weren’t suited for digging. “It’s not working!” he growled.

“Would you like some help?” asked the bee sweetly. “A little… magical help?”

Mole blinked. “Magic?”

“Yes. You see, our stingers aren’t just for pain. They contain a special magic. If we sting your front paws just a bit, they’ll be transformed—stronger, faster, perfect for digging!”

Mole hesitated. “Stings hurt.”

“Only for a moment,” the bee said, buzzing near his face. “And then—worms. Lots of them. Forever.”

Mole’s belly rumbled again. “Fine,” he grunted. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Lay your paws on this flat stone,” said the bee. “And close your eyes. That’s how the magic works.”

Mole did as he was told.

“Closer together…” said the bee.

“Fine.” Mole adjusted his paws.

The bee signaled the hidden bees waiting above. “Now!” he shouted.

CRACK! A heavy stone slammed down on Mole’s paws.

“AAAAARGH!” he howled, jerking back. Pain shot up his arms. He looked down and saw his paws crushed, misshapen—useless for climbing ever again.

“You tricked me!” Mole screamed.

The bee hovered near. “You were never going to stop coming after our children. So now, you won’t be able to climb. You’ll have to dig.”

Mole stumbled backward, furious, embarrassed. But as he pressed his claws into the soil in anger, something strange happened—his paws, now wide and flat, dug easily. He plowed through the earth like it was soft butter.

He blinked. “Worms,” he muttered. “So many worms…”

That night, Mole ate more than he ever had—tunnels full of juicy, wriggling meals.

And yet… every now and then, he looked up at the tree and thought of the beehive. His stomach would rumble at the memory. But when he lifted his mangled paws, he knew: he’d never climb again.

So he dug deeper, ashamed and alone. And that is why, to this day, Mole lives underground.

🌱 Moral of the Story:

Greed may climb high, but it eventually falls. Sometimes, a clever mind defeats even the strongest claws.