ON THE first Monday of the school holidays, my children and I were with my good friend Chris Yule and his family for one of his sessions of Muddy Buddies. These take place in Dunbar Community Woodlands, called locally Lochend Woods.

The woods are now surrounded by housing and other developments, but that enhances their role as a haven of nature for the local community. Once you enter the wood, it doesn’t take long to forget you are in a town, you feel you could be deep in an ancient forest. This is an essential experience for our children but also for us 'grown-ups' because, no matter what our age, our soul needs that connection to nature.

So, what Chris does in Muddy Buddies is simple magic. Under the canopy of the trees, around a temporary carefully managed fire, he tells stories, while cooking sausages and roasting marshmallows. In addition, there are fun games which parents and children can join in, as well as time to explore and play in the wood.

This is our ancient way of being and Chris imparts a love and respect for nature, and how to enjoy it without damaging it. He doesn’t preach it, he demonstrates it.

He is also a skilled storyteller and one of his tales on Monday was an ancient tale from Iraq, although it was a story with a universal message. He had asked if he could pass the tale on when he had heard it, and I asked him the same. Stories live by being retold, and so below is my retelling of the tale, although I cannot here convey Chris’s wonderful storytelling skills. You can do that if ever you attend his Muddy Buddies.

So here is the story, with a tiny pinch of flavour from myself.

'Once there was a traveller on his way to Baghdad, a city famed for its artists, philosophers, scientists and holy men. But he found himself walking along a desert road, far from the city, without water. As luck would have it, a wagon appeared, and the wagoner offered him a lift.

The traveller was very grateful. There was another man on board the wagon, he wore dark robes like a Berber and was a merchant. A cloth bag was held between his feet, containing something that moved, and as every mile was passed, the merchant picked up the bag and gave it a shake, and poked it three times. The traveller was very intrigued by this but didn’t say anything, for he was too shy to ask.

When they arrived in Baghdad, he realised this was his last chance to ask the merchant. And so, before the merchant vanished into the crowds, he plucked up the courage to ask his question.

“Please could you tell me, what is in that bag?”

“The bag contains mice,” said the merchant. “They are clever mice and I shall sell them to the scientists of this great city, who will use them to run through their mazes and test their elixirs.”

“But why did you lift the bag so often, to shake and prod it?”

The merchant smiled. “Ah, well you see, I have only this cloth bag to carry them in. They are clever creatures and they have small sharp teeth and so they could easily nibble holes in the bag and escape. So I agitate the bag and disturb them, which pits them against each other. This means they squabble and blame each other, fighting amongst themselves rather than working together to gain their freedom.”

The traveller was impressed by the simple wisdom of this. “Where did you learn this trick?” he asked.

The merchant gave another smile.

“It is the trick I have learnt from every ruler, from every land. In all my travels I have seen the same trick work. The rulers cast the people against themselves, with conspiracies and blame, so they may never come together to work for their freedom and happiness.

"It’s a simple trick I know, but it works with people, and so it does with mice, even clever ones.

That is why I prod and shake the bag. I am making a conspiracy which distracts them from the obvious and real reason for their situation.”'