Tiddalik the Frog

Tiddalik was the largest frog who had ever lived. He woke up one morning in the time of the long heat with a terrible thirst.

He went to the river. He drank.

He did not stop drinking.

He drank the river dry.

He went to the next river and drank that one dry too. He went to the next. He drank up every river he could find. He drank the lakes. He drank the waterholes the kangaroos used. He drank the small creeks. By the end of the day, every fresh water in the country was inside Tiddalik's belly. He had grown to the size of a hill. He sat down where he was and he could not move.

The animals woke up the next morning thirsty. They went to the river and there was no river. They went to the lake and there was no lake. They went to every place they knew that had water and the places were dry, with cracked mud in the bottom. They were going to die.

The wombat had heard about a great frog sitting somewhere in the country, the size of a hill. The animals went to look. They came up over the ridge and there he was, swollen, with the water of every river inside him, asleep.

The wise old wombat said: "We must make him laugh. If he laughs, the water will come out of him."

This was easier to say than to do. Tiddalik did not look like a frog who laughed often.

The kookaburra tried first. The kookaburra is a famous laugher. He flew up onto a branch above Tiddalik's head and laughed and laughed in his loud, broken way. Tiddalik opened one eye, looked at the kookaburra without expression, and closed the eye again.

The kangaroo tried. He hopped around in front of Tiddalik in his most ridiculous way. He stood on his head. He pretended to fall over. Tiddalik did not even open his eye for the kangaroo.

The lizard tried. He danced and made faces. Tiddalik ignored him.

Each animal in turn tried something. The platypus stood on his bill and waved his tail. The emu put his head between his legs. The crow walked sideways like a drunk. Nothing.

At last the eel came forward. The eel was very serious. He had never made a joke in his life. He came up to Tiddalik. He stood as straight as an eel could stand. He began, slowly, to dance.

The eel did not have arms or legs. He had only his long body. He twisted himself into knots. He stood up and waved. He fell over. He got up. He flopped from side to side. He spun around. He tried to balance on his tail and failed and folded in half and stood up the wrong way around. He looked, in trying to be graceful, more ridiculous than anything has ever looked.

Tiddalik watched. His eye opened. The corners of his mouth began to move. He tried to keep his mouth shut. The eel did one more thing, an enormous looping dance with his whole body that ended in a heap. Tiddalik could not hold it any more.

He laughed.

When he laughed, he opened his mouth, and all the water of the rivers and the lakes and the waterholes came pouring out of him. It came out in a flood. It went rushing down the dry beds of the rivers. The dry creeks filled. The lakes filled. The animals had to move quickly to get out of the way. The waterholes filled. The country was wet again.

Tiddalik shrank. He went back to being an ordinary frog. He hopped quietly into a small puddle and went to sleep.

That is the story the old people of the country tell, and it is told to remind us. If you take more than your share, sooner or later you will give it back, and you will be made to laugh while you do it.