Eeyore Loses A Tail:E198
When Eeyore discovers his tail is missing, he has to hunt it down and discovers it in a most surprising place. A beloved classic from A. A. Milne. (duration 10 minutes) An episode from Journey with Story, a storytelling podcast for kids ages 4-10.
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Discover How Eeyore Finds His Lost Tail
Where is Eeyore’s Tail? Listen to this Classic Tale from A. A. Milne and Find Out
Episode 198
September 22,2022
If you were to lose something that was very, very important to you, what would you do to try and get it back? Has that ever actually happened to you – that you lost something and then were able to get it back? How did you do that?
Hello everyone. I’m Kathleen Pelley. Welcome to Journey with Story. Today’s episode is about a donkey called Eeyore who loses – his tail of all things! I am sure many of you are familiar with Eeyore who is one of the characters in the famous story of Winnie the Pooh by A. A. Milne and so this is one of the chapters from that book.
Before we begin- don’t forget to send us your drawings inspired by our episodes and do please keep rating, reviewing and sharing this podcast with others. Thanks again to all of our loyal patreon subscribers –hope you are enjoying our weekly coloring sheets.
Now let’s take a journey with Eeyore Loses a Tail by A. A. Milne
The Old Grey Donkey, Eeyore, stood by himself in a thistly corner of
the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought
about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, “Why?” and
sometimes he thought, “Wherefore?” and sometimes he thought, “Inasmuch
as which?”–and sometimes he didn’t quite know what he _was_ thinking
about. So when Winnie-the-Pooh came stumping along, Eeyore was very glad
to be able to stop thinking for a little, in order to say “How do you
do?” in a gloomy manner to him.
“And how are you?” said Winnie-the-Pooh.
Eeyore shook his head from side to side.
“Not very how,” he said. “I don’t seem to have felt at all how for a
long time.”
“Dear, dear,” said Pooh, “I’m sorry about that. Let’s have a look at
you.”
So Eeyore stood there, gazing sadly at the ground, and Winnie-the-Pooh
walked all round him once.
“Why, what’s happened to your tail?” he said in surprise.
“What _has_ happened to it?” said Eeyore.
“It isn’t there!”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, either a tail _is_ there or it isn’t there. You can’t make a
mistake about it. And yours _isn’t_ there!”
“Then what is?”
“Nothing.”
“Let’s have a look,” said Eeyore, and he turned slowly round to the
place where his tail had been a little while ago, and then, finding that
he couldn’t catch it up, he turned round the other way, until he came
back to where he was at first, and then he put his head down and looked
between his front legs, and at last he said, with a long, sad sigh, “I
believe you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” said Pooh.
“That Accounts for a Good Deal,” said Eeyore gloomily. “It Explains
Everything. No Wonder.”
“You must have left it somewhere,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.
“Somebody must have taken it,” said Eeyore. “How Like Them,” he added,
after a long silence.
Pooh felt that he ought to say something helpful about it, but didn’t
quite know what. So he decided to do something helpful instead.
“Eeyore,” he said solemnly, “I, Winnie-the-Pooh, will find your tail for
you.”
“Thank you, Pooh,” answered Eeyore. “You’re a real friend,” said he.
“Not like Some,” he said.
So Winnie-the-Pooh went off to find Eeyore’s tail.
It was a fine spring morning in the forest as he started out. Little
soft clouds played happily in a blue sky, skipping from time to time in
front of the sun as if they had come to put it out, and then sliding
away suddenly so that the next might have his turn. Through them and
between them the sun shone bravely; and a copse which had worn its firs
all the year round seemed old and dowdy now beside the new green lace
which the beeches had put on so prettily. Through copse and spinney
marched Bear; down open slopes of gorse and heather, over rocky beds of
streams, up steep banks of sandstone into the heather again; and so at
last, tired and hungry, to the Hundred Acre Wood. For it was in the
Hundred Acre Wood that Owl lived.
“And if anyone knows anything about anything,” said Bear to himself,
“it’s Owl who knows something about something,” he said, “or my name’s
not Winnie-the-Pooh,” he said. “Which it is,” he added. “So there you
are.”
Owl lived at The Chestnuts, an old-world residence of great charm, which
was grander than anybody else’s, or seemed so to Bear, because it had
both a knocker _and_ a bell-pull. Underneath the knocker there was a
notice which said:
PLES RING IF AN RNSER IS REQIRD.
Underneath the bell-pull there was a notice which said:
PLEZ CNOKE IF AN RNSR IS NOT REQID.
These notices had been written by Christopher Robin, who was the only
one in the forest who could spell; for Owl, wise though he was in many
ways, able to read and write and spell his own name WOL, yet somehow
went all to pieces over delicate words like MEASLES and BUTTEREDTOAST.
Winnie-the-Pooh read the two notices very carefully, first from left to
right, and afterwards, in case he had missed some of it, from right to
left. Then, to make quite sure, he knocked and pulled the knocker, and
he pulled and knocked the bell-rope, and he called out in a very loud
voice, “Owl! I require an answer! It’s Bear speaking.” And the door
opened, and Owl looked out.
“Hallo, Pooh,” he said. “How’s things?”
“Terrible and Sad,” said Pooh, “because Eeyore, who is a friend of mine,
has lost his tail. And he’s Moping about it. So could you very kindly
tell me how to find it for him?”
“Well,” said Owl, “the customary procedure in such cases is as follows.”
“What does Crustimoney Proseedcake mean?” said Pooh. “For I am a Bear of
Very Little Brain, and long words Bother me.”
“It means the Thing to Do.”
“As long as it means that, I don’t mind,” said Pooh humbly.
“The thing to do is as follows. First, Issue a Reward. Then—-“
“Just a moment,” said Pooh, holding up his paw. “_What_ do we do to
this–what you were saying? You sneezed just as you were going to tell
me.”
“I _didn’t_ sneeze.”
“Yes, you did, Owl.”
“Excuse me, Pooh, I didn’t. You can’t sneeze without knowing it.”
“Well, you can’t know it without something having been sneezed.”
“What I _said_ was, ‘First _Issue_ a Reward’.”
“You’re doing it again,” said Pooh sadly.
“A Reward!” said Owl very loudly. “We write a notice to say that we will
give a large something to anybody who finds Eeyore’s tail.”
“I see, I see,” said Pooh, nodding his head. “Talking about large
somethings,” he went on dreamily, “I generally have a small something
about now–about this time in the morning,” and he looked wistfully at
the cupboard in the corner of Owl’s parlour; “just a mouthful of
condensed milk or whatnot, with perhaps a lick of honey—-“
“Well, then,” said Owl, “we write out this notice, and we put it up all
over the forest.”
“A lick of honey,” murmured Bear to himself, “or–or not, as the case
may be.” And he gave a deep sigh, and tried very hard to listen to what
Owl was saying.
But Owl went on and on, using longer and longer words, until at last he
came back to where he started, and he explained that the person to write
out this notice was Christopher Robin.
“It was he who wrote the ones on my front door for me. Did you see them,
Pooh?”
For some time now Pooh had been saying “Yes” and “No” in turn, with his
eyes shut, to all that Owl was saying, and having said, “Yes, yes,” last
time, he said “No, not at all,” now, without really knowing what Owl was
talking about.
“Didn’t you see them?” said Owl, a little surprised. “Come and look at
them now.”
So they went outside. And Pooh looked at the knocker and the notice
below it, and he looked at the bell-rope and the notice below it, and
the more he looked at the bell-rope, the more he felt that he had seen
something like it, somewhere else, sometime before.
“Handsome bell-rope, isn’t it?” said Owl.
Pooh nodded.
“It reminds me of something,” he said, “but I can’t think what. Where
did you get it?”
“I just came across it in the Forest. It was hanging over a bush, and I
thought at first somebody lived there, so I rang it, and nothing
happened, and then I rang it again very loudly, and it came off in my
hand, and as nobody seemed to want it, I took it home, and—-“
“Owl,” said Pooh solemnly, “you made a mistake. Somebody did want it.”
“Who?”
“Eeyore. My dear friend Eeyore. He was–he was fond of it.”
“Fond of it?”
“Attached to it,” said Winnie-the-Pooh sadly.
* * * * *
So with these words he unhooked it, and carried it back to Eeyore; and
when Christopher Robin had nailed it on in its right place again, Eeyore
frisked about the forest, waving his tail so happily that
Winnie-the-Pooh came over all funny, and had to hurry home for a little
snack of something to sustain him. And, wiping his mouth half an hour
afterwards, he sang to himself proudly:
_Who found the Tail?_
“I,” said Pooh,
“At a quarter to two
(Only it was quarter to eleven really),
_I_ found the Tail!”
So glad that poor Eeyore got his tail back –would be dreadful for an animal to lose his tail. I wonder what is something that you would miss the most if you were to lose it? Maybe you could write your own story about someone who loses something and how he or she finds it again. And remember keep sending us your drawings and reviews so we can share with others.
Cheerio then, join me next time for Journey with Story.
