The Oxen and the Wheels

In a prosperous farming village where the harvest season brought busy days of transporting grain from the fields to the market, there lived a farmer named Samuel who owned a sturdy wooden cart pulled by two magnificent oxen named Atlas and Hercules.

Atlas and Hercules were powerful, hardworking animals who took great pride in their strength and their ability to carry heavy loads across long distances. They had been working together for many years and had developed a reputation throughout the region for their reliability and endurance.

The two oxen were perfectly matched in size and temperament, and they worked together with the kind of seamless coordination that only comes from years of partnership. Samuel valued them highly, not just for their strength, but for their steady, uncomplaining nature that made them ideal for the demanding work of farm transportation.

Samuel’s cart was well-built and functional, with four strong wooden wheels that had served faithfully for many seasons. The wheels were made from the finest oak and had been carefully crafted by the village’s best wheelwright to handle the heavy loads and rough roads that were part of daily farm life.

For most of their working relationship, the oxen and the cart had functioned as a perfectly coordinated team. Atlas and Hercules would pull steadily and powerfully, while the wheels would roll smoothly and quietly along the roads, carrying their burden without complaint or difficulty.

However, as the wheels aged and the constant use began to take its toll on the wooden components, one of the wheels developed a problem that would change the dynamics of their working relationship.

During a particularly busy day when Samuel was transporting a especially heavy load of grain to the market, the problematic wheel began to make an loud, annoying creaking sound with every revolution. The noise was sharp and persistent, cutting through the peaceful sounds of the countryside and drawing attention from everyone they passed.

“CREAK! CREAK! CREAK!” went the wheel with every turn, creating a grating sound that seemed to announce to the world that it was suffering under its burden.

The wheel seemed to take every opportunity to make its distress known, creaking loudest when the load was heaviest and the road was roughest. It appeared to be making a public declaration of how difficult and unbearable its work had become.

“Oh, the strain!” the wheel seemed to cry with every creak. “Oh, the terrible burden I must bear! Listen to how I suffer under this crushing weight! Surely no wheel has ever been asked to carry such an impossible load!”

Atlas and Hercules, who had been pulling the cart in their usual steady, quiet manner, couldn’t help but notice the constant noise and complaint coming from behind them. At first, they tried to ignore it and continue with their work as they always had.

But as the day wore on and the wheel’s creaking became increasingly loud and persistent, the two oxen found themselves growing irritated by the constant complaints.

Finally, Atlas could no longer contain his frustration. “Excuse me, friend wheel,” he called back over his shoulder, “but would you mind explaining what all this noise is about? You’re making such a racket that everyone in the village can hear you complaining!”

The creaking wheel seemed pleased to have an audience for its grievances. “Oh, you oxen don’t understand the terrible burden I must bear!” it complained loudly. “Every rotation is agony! Every mile is torture! I’m carrying such an enormous weight that I can barely turn!”

Hercules, who prided himself on his patience and wisdom, decided to address the wheel’s complaints with a gentle but pointed observation.

“My friend,” Hercules said calmly, “I hate to interrupt your suffering, but I think there might be something you’re not considering in your complaints.”

“What could I possibly be overlooking?” the wheel creaked indignantly. “Can’t you hear how I struggle with every turn? Doesn’t the noise I’m making prove how hard my work is?”

Atlas nodded in agreement with his partner. “Well, yes, we can certainly hear you. The whole countryside can hear you. But here’s what I find curious about your complaints…”

“What’s that?” demanded the wheel, still creaking with self-pity.

“You’re complaining about carrying the load,” Hercules explained patiently, “but we’re the ones who are actually pulling it. You’re simply rolling along on the ground while we do all the work of moving the cart forward.”

Atlas added his own perspective: “We’re pulling not just the grain and the cart, but also your weight and the weight of the other three wheels. Yet we manage to do our job without making any noise about it.”

The wheel creaked more quietly for a moment, as if considering this point of view. “But… but I’m supporting part of the weight! I’m bearing the burden of the load pressing down on me!”

“Yes,” agreed Hercules, “you are supporting your share of the weight. But so are the other three wheels, and they’re managing to do it quietly. And more importantly, we’re pulling the entire cart, including you, which means we’re carrying a much heavier burden than any individual wheel.”

Atlas continued the lesson: “The difference is that we understand that hard work is simply part of our responsibility. We don’t expect praise or sympathy for doing what we’re supposed to do. We just do our job steadily and reliably.”

“But surely,” protested the wheel, “my suffering deserves some recognition! Doesn’t my loud complaint show everyone how hard I’m working?”

Hercules shook his massive head. “Actually, your loud complaint shows everyone how much you dislike working. The three other wheels are working just as hard as you are, but they’re doing it with dignity and without disturbing everyone around them.”

“Furthermore,” added Atlas, “your creaking suggests that you’re not maintaining yourself properly. A wheel that’s well-cared-for and properly greased doesn’t make noise, even under heavy loads. Your complaint might be more about your own condition than about the difficulty of your work.”

The wheel fell silent for several moments, considering what the oxen had told it. The only sounds were the steady rhythm of Atlas and Hercules’ hooves on the dirt road and the quiet rolling of the three other wheels.

Finally, the problematic wheel spoke up again, this time much more quietly. “I… I never thought about it that way. I suppose I was so focused on my own discomfort that I didn’t consider how much harder your job is, or how quietly the other wheels manage to do the same work I’m doing.”

“That’s the beginning of wisdom,” Hercules said kindly. “Understanding your role in relation to others helps you keep your own challenges in perspective.”

When they reached the market, Samuel noticed the wheel’s creaking and took it to the local wheelwright for maintenance. After a thorough cleaning and proper greasing, the wheel rolled as quietly and smoothly as it had when it was new.

The wheel learned that many complaints about difficult work are actually complaints about poor preparation or maintenance. And more importantly, it learned that constant complaining about one’s duties is neither helpful nor dignified, especially when others are bearing equal or greater burdens without complaint.

From that day forward, the wheel rolled quietly alongside its three companions, doing its share of the work without demanding special attention or sympathy for performing its basic function.

Moral: Those who complain the loudest often work the least, while those who work the hardest often work in silence. Before complaining about your burdens, consider whether others are carrying equal or greater loads without making a fuss. Often, our complaints say more about our attitude than about our actual hardships.