How the Turtle Won the Race

It takes speed and intelligence to win a race.

“I am the fastest creature who has ever lived!” said the dog as he ran down the road. He dashed past four turtles who sat in a tomato patch, nibbling on tomatoes under a hot summer sun. “I am surely much faster than any of you!” He laughed, turning back to run around them several times. “See? I can run circles around you!” Then the dog sped off leaving the turtles choking in his dust.

“I am sick of that dog,” said one of the turtles, red juices dripping down the side of his mouth.

“I am sick of him, too,” said another. “All he ever does is brag.”

“He thinks he’s the fastest creature in the world.” The third turtle lifted his head and watched the dog disappear around a bend in the road.

When the dog was long gone, the fourth turtle said, “Maybe we should challenge him to a race?”

“A race?” they all asked at once.

“Yes, a race. Sometimes it takes craft and cunning to win a race, not speed. We can do it if we work together.”

The three turtles listened to him as he spoke. They smiled; his plan was a good one.

Later that evening the challenge went out: the turtle wanted to race the dog. The dog barked and howled with glee when it reached his ears, and lightning-quick he ran to find that turtle foolish enough to race him. He found him surrounded by all three of his friends.

“You?” asked the dog. “You want to challenge me to a race?”

“I do,” said the turtle. “I want to race you. And I will win.”

The dog laughed so hard he almost fell over. “So be it. Tomorrow at sunrise we will race. How far shall we race, turtle?”

“From here to Oyó!” he said. Everyone gasped.

“That is many miles. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” said the turtle. “Of that you can be certain.”

“Then sunrise tomorrow we will race.” With a snicker he added, “And may the best . . . animal . . . win.”

Their plan was simple: It involved all four of them and three chickens. In darkness, the first turtle walked slowly to the starting point while the other three each grabbed a raw chicken in their mouths and scattered to three points along the road to Oyó. When the sun rose the next morning, the dog found the turtle sleeping at the starting line, tucked away tightly inside his shell.

He rapped on the shell with his paw. “Wake up, turtle! It is time to race!”

Sleepily he poked his head out first, and then his four legs and tail. “Morning already?” he asked. “I am well-rested and ready to beat you, dog.”

“We’ll see about that. Are you ready?”

“I am!”

Before he took his first step the dog was off; and by the time the turtle had run only a few feet, the dog was out of sight. The turtle kept running, slow as he was, around the first bend of the road; and then, he walked into the bushes and slept. “My brothers will teach him to be humble,” he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

After an hour of running the dog saw a dead chicken lying in the road. “What is this?” he thought, sniffing at its flesh. The smell was overwhelming and the dog took a single bite. Then he tore into the flesh. While he ate, the second turtle crept out of the bushes where he was resting; slowly, he ran toward the dog. “I am catching up with you, dog!” he called out.

The dog looked up. “How can this be?” he thought. “The turtle is too slow to make it this far this quickly.” He looked at the chicken; his stomach rumbled. He looked at the turtle; he was gaining ground. The dog sighed and took off running again.

The turtle stopped and slept where he was.

After another hour of running the dog came across another dead chicken in the road. His belly rumbled; he stopped to eat. While he was growling and ripping into the flesh, the third turtle came out of the bush and began running toward the dog, slow as he was. With soft footsteps he ran right behind the dog and said, “Hello.”

The dog jumped, a piece of meat still hanging in his mouth. He swallowed quickly. “How?” asked the dog. “How did you catch up with me? And how did you do it so quietly?”

“It doesn’t matter how,” said the turtle. “What matters is that I caught up with you again. I’m going to beat you at this race.”

“Never!” He laughed and took off down the road to Oyó one more time. The turtle lay down and slept.

Again the dog ran for an hour; and again he saw another chicken lying in the road. By now he was ravenous. Teased by small bites of the previous two chickens and worn out from the constant running, the dog lay down to tear into the meat. He ate every last bit and even gnawed on the bones. When he was done he looked behind him; the turtle was nowhere to be seen. “He gave up!” said the dog, “and I will win the race!”

He picked up the last leg bone in his mouth—it was too tasty to leave lying on the road—and he ran toward Oyó again. In just minutes he was at the town’s gates. There stood the turtle waiting for him. “How?” he cried out. “How were you able to get here first?” The bone still hung between his teeth.

The turtle smiled. “You were too intent on eating the chicken,” he said, “and quietly I ran right by you!”

“You cheated!” cried the dog. “You cheated and now I will kill you!”

He growled deeply while the turtle trembled in fear; quickly, the turtle fled into the safety of his shell. The dog took a deep breath and dove for him—and the bone—the bone got sucked into his throat when he did. He fell on the ground gasping for air, but the bone stuck firm; and the dog died a slow, agonizing death while the turtle watched with glee.

“Never run with your mouth full!” the turtle said as the light went out in the dog’s eyes.

No dog ever dared to race a turtle again.