The Singing Scoutmaster: Coyote and the Moon

One quiet night, as Coyote wandered through the dark plains, he glanced up at the sky and stopped in his tracks. There, hanging high above, was the moon, full and glowing, casting its soft, silvery light over the land. The stars twinkled around it like a scattering of precious gems, but Coyote's eyes were fixed only on the radiant orb. "What a beautiful light," he murmured, his gaze narrowing with envy. "Why does the moon get to sit up there, shining so brightly, while I'm down here in the dust and shadows?"

Coyote tilted his head thoughtfully, his clever mind buzzing with ideas. "That moon would look so much better hanging in my den," he muttered. "Imagine the admiration I'd get from the other animals! They'd be so jealous of me, Coyote, the one who captured the moon." His tail flicked eagerly as the idea took root. He knew he had to have it—no matter what.

Determined, Coyote began to climb the highest hill he could find, his paws scrambling up the rocky slope as he kept his eyes on the glowing orb above. The wind whistled around him, but he paid it no mind. Higher and higher he climbed, his legs trembling with effort as the steep incline grew more difficult. Finally, panting and exhausted, he reached the very top of the hill. Standing on his hind legs, he stretched his paws up toward the sky, his claws grasping at the empty air.

"Come down, Moon!" Coyote barked. He reached and stretched as high as he could, but the moon remained far, far out of his reach. No matter how high he leapt or how much he strained, his paws grasped nothing but the night breeze. Frustration boiled up inside him, and he growled low in his throat. "This isn't fair!" he snarled, his fur bristling in anger. "How am I supposed to bring the moon down if it won't even come close?"

Coyote paced back and forth, his mind racing. He couldn't let this go—he needed to find a way to make the moon come down to him. And then, as he often did, Coyote came up with a cunning plan. His lips curled into a sly smile as he cleared his throat and called up to the sky, his voice as smooth as a summer breeze. "Hello, Moon! You look so lonely up there, all by yourself in the vast sky. Wouldn't you like to come down and join me for a while? I have a wonderful song to sing to you, and I promise it will be the best you've ever heard." His words were honeyed, and his tone inviting.

The moon, curious about Coyote's offer, began to drift lower, its light growing brighter as it descended through the night sky. "A song, you say?" the moon's voice echoed softly. "I do love a good song, but it must be as good as you promise, Coyote. Sing for me, and I'll decide if I want to stay a little closer." The moon hovered just above the hilltop, its glow washing over Coyote like a blanket of silver light.

Coyote's eyes gleamed as he nodded eagerly. He took a deep breath, his voice low and melodic as he began to sing. He sang of the stars that danced through the sky, of the rivers that flowed like shimmering ribbons across the plains, of the mountains that stood tall and proud, and of the beauty and peace of the night. His song was enchanting, weaving through the air like a spell. The moon swayed gently as it listened, drawn in by the sweet melody and the imagery painted by Coyote's words.

Slowly, the moon drifted lower and lower, closer and closer, until it was just above Coyote's head. "What a lovely song," the moon murmured, mesmerized by the trickster's voice. "You truly have a gift, Coyote."

Seeing his chance, Coyote's muscles tensed, and with a sudden leap, he jumped up and grabbed the moon with his paws, pulling it down to the ground. "Got you!" he laughed triumphantly, his tail wagging furiously. He held the moon tightly, his claws digging into its glowing surface. But as soon as he had it in his grasp, Coyote realized something he hadn't considered—the moon was much, much heavier than he had expected.

Coyote grunted and strained, his legs trembling under the weight of the moon. He tried to drag it back to his den, but it wouldn't budge. His paws slipped and slid as he struggled, the glow of the moon almost blinding him. "Let me go, Coyote!" the moon cried, its voice trembling with anger. "You cannot keep me here!"

"Never!" Coyote growled, his teeth bared stubbornly. "You're mine now!" He dug his claws in deeper, refusing to release his grip. But the more he struggled, the brighter the moon's light grew. It shone like a blazing sun, its radiance blinding Coyote until he could see nothing but a sea of white light. "Let me go!" the moon roared, and with a mighty flash, it broke free from Coyote's grasp and shot back up into the sky, far out of reach.

Coyote yelped and stumbled back, rubbing his eyes and blinking furiously. His vision swam, and he could barely make out the shape of the moon high above him, shining down once more from its place in the sky. "You are a foolish trickster, Coyote," the moon said sternly, its voice echoing through the night. "You cannot have everything you desire, no matter how clever you think you are."

Rubbing his sore eyes, Coyote scowled and muttered angrily under his breath. "I'll get you one day, Moon. Just wait and see," he grumbled, his pride stinging from the failed attempt. He turned and stalked down the hill, his tail drooping low.

The moon, however, only chuckled softly. "There are some things that are beyond even your reach, Coyote," it said gently. "You must learn that some things cannot be taken by force or by trickery." It continued to shine brightly, casting its silvery light over the plains and filling the night with its calm, steady presence.

From that day on, whenever Coyote looked up at the moon, he was reminded of his own limits and of the wisdom in knowing when to let go of unattainable desires. But being the trickster that he was, Coyote never quite learned that lesson. Even as he wandered through the plains, chasing after his next scheme, he would sometimes glance up at the moon and mutter, "One day, I'll have you, Moon. Just wait and see."