When I was yet a wee cub...
...still nurtured by my parents I wandered off into a beautiful field alone. In the center of the field there stood a solitary sturdy oak tree. In the tree there was a giant honey bee hive. Being a curious (and hungry) little cub, I climbed the tree in search of the honey within the hive. It it was so full of honey that it was even dripping out onto the tree limbs. I must have been lucky enough to discover this hive when the bees were out gathering pollen. I ate and ate the sweet honey, sucking it off the honeycombs. When I had my fill, which was not even close to all of the honey, I fell asleep on the tree limb.
The next thing I knew I was awakened by angry buzzing. The worker bees had returned and they were not very happy at finding their hive nearly demolished. They started stinging me relentlessly and I being a brave cub fought back with all that I had. In the midst of the skirmish I fell out of the tree which was just enough to knock the hive down on top of me.
My parents soon found me in this condition, laying on the ground covered in honey and bee stings. The local medicine woman told my parents that they would have to shave my fur in order to properly treat the stings and so that is what they did.
Bear cubs are generally like other little ones, they can sometimes be very cruel. When I showed up again in the company of my playmates they composed for me a little rhyme that has become very famous, maybe you've even heard it.
Fuzzy Wuzzi was a bear, Fuzzy Wuzzi had no hair. Fuzzy Wuzzi wasn't very fuzzy was he?
So now you know the story, as you can see my hair has grown back to normal and although I hated the little rhyme as a child, I have now come to embrace it and adore it.
