7.29.24 2

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

There was once a young shepherd boy who tended his sheep at the foot of a mountain near a dark forest. It was rather lonely for him all day, so he thought upon a plan by which he could get a little company and some excitement.

He rushed down towards the village calling out “Wolf! Wolf!” and the villagers came out to meet him, and some of them stopped with him for a considerable time. 

This pleased the boy so much that a few days afterwards he tried the same trick, and again the villagers came to his help.

But shortly after this a wolf actually did come out from the forest, and began to worry the sheep, and the boy of course cried out “Wolf! Wolf!” still louder than before. But this time the villagers, who had been fooled twice before, thought the boy was again deceiving them, and nobody stirred to come to his help.

So the wolf made a good meal off the boy’s flock, and when the boy complained, the wise man of the village said: “A liar will not be believed, even when he speaks the truth.”


The Boy Who Cried Wolf brings back memories for me. 

I was a natural storyteller as a kid. I made up great tales and shared them with anyone who would listen, passing them off as truth.

Mama didn’t like that very much. And though she could’ve whooped me or grounded me – she didn’t. 

Instead, she’d set me down and tell me The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

To say I heard it often would be an understatement.

I knew the story by heart before I was old enough to tie my shoes.

It makes me laugh now. But Lord, I detested that story back then. Like most young’uns, I eventually grew out of fibbing. I’m not sure the fable had anything to do with it, but the lesson made a lasting impression.

I actually carried on the tradition with my own kids. I told the story to Bug and Belle when they were little – and this past weekend, I recited it to Bubba while he visited. 

Sitting with my nephew tucked under my arm as I shared the cautionary tale made me wonder where Mama picked up Aesop’s fable. So I called her. Turns out, Grandma told her the story when she was little, too.

Did my great-grandmama do the same? I don’t know. But I do know we’ve been passing down The Boy Who Cried Wolf for at least three generations in my family.

How about y’all? Did you grow up on The Boy Who Cried Wolf? Better yet, is telling it a longstanding tradition in your family?

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2 Comments

  1. My parents never told me the story, but I did read it while in school as a young boy. It made me think 🤔

    Published 7.29.24
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    • Cassie wrote:

      I wonder if they still teach it in school. I can’t remember learning it that way… but mama told it a lot. I know it by memory. Though, in my version, the little boy is gobbled up by the wolf.

      Published 8.6.24
      Reply