Once upon a time in what was once a forested land there existed an oasis. The land had long since become denuded of much vegetation, and water had become a scarce commodity.

The reason the water was still there was because long ago, a seer had foretold the forest creatures that there would come a time when, even though the water looked plentiful, it would be scarce because creatures would come who had forgotten the laws of nature.

“You are being given this vision and warning,” the seer had said, “so that you will know why the plan you will be given is important to implement and abide by.”

The seer was quite old and appeared to the forest creatures to be a kind of anthropomorphic oak, although none of them were entirely sure whether or not the seer was in fact, a tree.

“I will go now,” the seer had said, “but later you should expect a visit from the beaver. Beavers understand both work and water, and this one will guide you on how to preserve what you have.”

The forest creatures were anxious given the nature of the prophecy that had been detailed to them. What manner of creature could come that would not understand the basic balance of nature? How could creatures continue to live without water in abundance? Most of them puzzled over these things within themselves, but awaited the beaver with a kind of excited agitation.

The day of Mr. Beaver’s arrival was surprising to the animals as they had never seen him look so official. If he had been wearing a hard hat and carried a briefcase with rolled up blueprints, the animals would hardly have thought him more official than he appeared to them the day he began to announce the plan for the water.

“Creatures of the forest,” he began, “The water that you drink is a kind of living water in this oasis. It is a peculiar kind of water that requires something back from those who might use it to quench their thirst. All water requires the laws of the balance of nature, but as the seer has indicated to you, this is for a time when there will come creatures who do not know those laws.”

“If you drink this water,” he continued, “and you do not serve to protect this water, it will become angry within the creature who refuses to reunite the water with its family through service to the greater portion. It is a jealous kind of water, that has a life somewhat of its own.”

The forest creatures looked at one another with wonder. They had known that if one of them had eaten a fish, for instance, that the fish would die when they ate it and become a part of them. They had not known, however, that the water was a kind of living thing. It had always been there ready to quench their thirst, and they had drank from the store of it at the oasis.

Nonetheless, what the beaver said was no specific imposition to them, as they naturally guarded the water anyway. After some gentle prodding from Mr. Beaver to remind them that this was for a time when people forgot these laws, they simply replied that they would do them.

“May we always have water, then,” said Mr. Beaver.

This had been long ago, and what the seer had said had come true. The water had been dried up, and creatures had forgotten the laws of nature. The oasis still existed because the creatures there remembered the vision and what Mr. Beaver had taught them.

It was with some suspicion then, that the wooded creatures met an unusual type of animal one day who happened to come upon their oasis. It had a big hump on its back, and a long neck, and some very large brown eyes. When it spoke, it curled its lips around its long teeth. It seemed like the kind of animal that might accidentally spit when it spoke.

“Hello, I am Mr. Camel,” the creature said. “I was wandering among this barren plain when I happened to notice your oasis. I am very thirsty, and I am afraid that if I do not drink soon I may die of thirst. You have so much water in your oasis, and what I could drink would be so little comparatively that it would not hurt your riches and would save my life. May I please drink from your oasis?”

The forest creatures elected Mr. Moose to speak on their behalf since he was big.

“This water,” began Mr. Moose, “is not like any other water in that it demands a kind of service to it which is why it is still preserved here. It requires those that drink to guard the larger source of it and this duty cannot be shirked. We are told that any who drink of it who refuse to follow these rules will have something unpleasant happen to them that the water they consume will cause to occur within their body.”

“That is curious,” Mr. Camel said. Mr. Camel, however, inwardly doubted the words Mr. Moose was saying. He thought instead that the wood creatures wanted to horde all this water for themselves while he would get none and so were trying to put him off with this talk about the water getting mad at him if he did not “serve” it whatever that meant. Mr. Camel had had many different kinds of water, and even had a hump on his back so he could carry a lot of extra water with him. The water served him–not the other way around.

“The terms are acceptable to me, though,” Mr. Camel said with a wide toothed grin. When he assented to the agreement, his lips curled back across his teeth in a way that seemed a little like a sneer, but the forest creatures were too innocent to notice.

Mr. Moose stood aside and allowed Mr. Camel access to the water.

When Mr. Camel touched his lips to the water, he was reminded just how thirsty he was. He drank and drank and filled his hump until it was brimming with the water from the oasis. As he rose, he thanked the animals.

“Remember,” said Mr. Moose, “there is a duty to this water now, and you have to guard it.”

“Yes, Yes,” said Mr. Camel. “I am in a hurry now as I must get to a certain city by daybreak. If you will excuse me, I will be going.”

“But your shift is at daybreak, Mr. Camel,” said Mr. Moose.

“Then it will just have to wait until I get back, won’t it?” shot back Mr. Camel.

All of the forest creatures became stiff when they heard Mr. Camel say these words. Many of them instantly wished to talk Mr. Camel out of his decision. Mr Camel, though, would hear of none of it. He trotted out of the oasis so fast that his weird toes made a kind of dust trail in the sand that looked almost like smoke. Mr. Camel was like some kind of desert rocket.

When it came time for the duty of Mr. Camel the next day, he was not there to take his shift. The animals discussed it amongst themselves, and again decided Mr. Moose should take his place because he was, after all, big and he did, after all, talk to Mr. Camel.

It was at about the time the shift ended that the forest creatures spied in the distance Mr. Camel slowly coming toward the oasis. He was not moving well. Something was wrong.

When Mr. Camel got nearer, it became obvious that he was very ill. His normal tan face was white and his nose was dry.

“I have come to do my duty,” said Mr. Camel.

“Your shift is all ready over,” said Mr. Moose.

“What? Nobody told me that!”

“Yes, we did before you left,” replied Mr. Moose.

“Look, I wasn’t going to come back,” began Mr. Camel, “because I thought you wood creatures made up this story to scare me from drinking the water.”

“So you wanted to steal a drink,” asked Mr. Moose pointedly.

“No, I wanted to drink water, which is my right as a camel,” replied Mr. Camel indignantly. “I have had all manner of water which never required anything from me.”

“Be that as it may,” began Mr. Moose guardedly, “we told you this water was different, and you required a drink from this oasis, and not another. It was up to you to think to steal a drink from us, and consider us to be liars. We told you the truth.”

“I know this now,” spoke Mr. Camel, “which is why I came for my shift. The truth is, I never wanted to drink this water, but you forest creatures made me do it!”

All of the forest creatures perked up their eyes and ears and looked at Mr. Camel astounded.

“What?!” said Mr. Moose. “You said you were dying of thirst, and asked us if you could please have a drink!?”

“Lies,” replied Mr. Camel. “You made me drink from this oasis to make me do your bidding. You have enslaved me with some kind of trickery!”

At about that time, Mr. Camel fell over to the ground on his side. As he did so, his mouth gaped open. It hung there limp as though he were dead, even though his nose still seemed to be breathing. Then, something terrible began to happen to Mr. Camel. A small trickle of water came out of his mouth which turned into a stream. The stream started thinly but grew wider as it was propelling itself back toward the oasis from which Mr. Camel drank.

Mr. Camel’s coloring was becoming ashen, and there was a look of alarm in his eyes, but he could not speak. Slowly but surely, all the water he drank from the oasis pulled itself from his body back into the reservoir. As it did so, Mr. Camel began to shrivel up like a raisin. The last thing to go was his hump, which finally deflated like an old balloon. Not long after, Mr. Camel no longer drew any breath. Within the hour, vultures had descended on his corpse and were picking the choicest viscera starting with what had been his big, brown eyes.

The forest animals were saddened to see this, but of course, they had been given the vision and the option to perform the duty to maintain the water. They now understood what it meant if they did not do as they said they would. Though they were living in dark times, it was good to know that providence had given them something precious that allowed them to live in relative peace and security.

The gift of vision comes with a price. The price had been to watch the water. Mr. Camel had done neither duty nor deference to vision, and so had his eyes pecked out by creatures hungry for the water in them.