The Clever Crown of Mach the Fox

A Forest Fable of Fear, Flattery, and Finding True Rule

By Ross Boulton (c) 2025

In Bramble Bluff where shadows play,

A fox declared, “I’ll lead today!”

With pointed grin and fur well-groomed,

He promised strength—and then he boomed:

“The forest lacks a steady paw.

I’ll make them follow, rule, and draw.

Not love,” he said, “for love grows thin—

But fear is how you truly win.”**

He puffed with pride, stood on a stump,

And thumped his tail with every thump.

He passed out rules, then changed them fast,

And built a crown he knew would last.

He banned all naps and dancing feet,

Declared that jokes were “far too sweet.”

A chipmunk snored—“That’s jail for you!”

Then tripped on his decree page too.

He carved a motto on a log:

“All Hail Mach—The Big Boss Dog.”

A nearby frog said with a grin,

“You’re not a dog. You’re not that big.”

He hired parrots dressed in ties,

To shout his praise beneath the skies.

“Your fur is flawless!” they would cheer,

While forest folk just plugged each ear.

He built a float of grand display,

Proclaiming “Foxes Lead the Way!”

But tripped and fell upon his cape—

A beetle laughed, “Nice speech… nice grape.”

He shut down jesters, hushed the dove,

And scoffed, “There’s weakness found in love.”

He bowed to none, but made them bow—

The forest hushed beneath his brow.

But Lantern lit a path below,

And whispered, “Seeds need light to grow.”

And Owliver, with silver stare,

Said, “Power fades without fair care.”

Then Charlie stomped with hooves held wide:

“No crown can crush a forest’s pride!

True leaders serve with listening ears—

Not rule through roaring, threats, or fears.”

The wind turned sharp. The trees leaned back.

Even Mach began to crack.

He heard no cheer, no song, no drum—

Just silence thick, and growing numb.

First Alternate Ending

He sat alone with crown askew.

“What good,” he asked, “is ruling few?”

A fox can trick—but can’t command

What trust builds softly, hand in hand.

So Mach stepped down from bramble throne,

And asked, “May I help tend what’s grown?”

And bit by bit, he changed his stride—

From feared alone to loved with pride.

Now in the grove, a rule is shared:

The crown belongs to those who’ve cared.

For cunning leads—but heart leads best,

And those who serve will stand the rest.

The End

The Ashen Crown

(parallel to Adolf Hitler)

He blamed the beetles. He banned the doves.

“Their songs,” he roared, “corrupt true loves!”

He hissed that Lantern dimmed the skies—

“A lie with legs and glowing eyes!”

He burned old scrolls. He scrubbed the past.

He carved new rules to make them last.

He marched young cubs in thorny lines,

Chanting chants in rigid times.

But roots grew dry. The soil cracked.

No blossom bloomed, no bird-song tracked.

The crown he forged from bark and flame

Turned ash, then dust, without a name.

And when he called for cheers once more,

Only silence crossed the forest floor.

The End

The Cracked Mask

(parallel to Joseph Stalin)

He ruled through scrolls with vanished names,

And every whisper spoke of flames.

He shuttered dens, erased each map—

Till even shadows feared a trap.

He trusted none, yet feared them all;

He built the tallest, thickest wall.

Parrots muttered, eyes cast down—

Too scared to echo praise or frown.

One dawn he woke, his mask in shards,

No council left, no loyal guards.

The crown lay cracked upon the ground;

A lonely echo was the only sound.

The End

The Grand Parade

(parallel to Benito Mussolini)

He marched the trails with trumpets loud,

Declared each branch a cheering crowd.

He painted floats in gaudy gold,

Proclaiming “Foxes brave and bold!”

But when the leafy banners tore,

And hunger tapped on every door,

Those who clapped for pomp and show

Turned their tails and let him go.

He stood atop a sagging stage,

A pageantry without a page—

And found that louder pride he’d sought

Was emptier than a hollow knot.

The End

The Quiet Handshake

(parallel to Gorbachev / F.W. de Klerk)

He bowed his head beneath the pine,

“This crown was never truly mine.”

He called to Owliver, Lantern, Goat—

“Help me mend the paths I broke.”

They tilled the soil, replanted seeds;

Shared tools, shared words, shared forest needs.

And though the wounds would take their time,

New roots of trust began to climb.

The crown now rests upon a stump,

A moss‑clad relic, green and plump—

A memory that power’s best

When shared in service, not in tests.

The End

The Rusted Chains

(parallel to Augusto Pinochet)

He forged thick laws of iron bark,

And cinched the trails from dawn to dark.

“A vote!” he boomed, “to prove my reign—

The forest loves a steady chain.”*

But ballots scattered on the breeze;

The creatures marked their choice with ease.

When counts were tallied, truth rang clear—

The chains fell off; the fox fell rear.

Mach shuffled out beyond the trees,

Exiled by the very breeze.

The forest healed, though scars remained;

And rust was all that still proclaimed.

The End

The Endless Echo

(parallel to Fidel Castro)

He spoke each dawn with steadfast pride,

Promised shade and acorns wide.

He donned a cape of soldier green,

Declared, “My rule keeps forests keen!”

Years rolled on, the river slowed,

Yet praises from the parrots flowed.

Mach grew thin but kept his throne—

A stump now cracked, but still his own.

At last he slipped into the shade;

His echo lingered, vows half‑made.

New leaves emerged with cautious care,

Yet still his voice hummed in the air.

The End

✍️ Why I Wrote This

This fable was inspired by The Prince—Machiavelli’s exploration of power, manipulation, and leadership. Mach the Fox is a nod to the calculating ruler who believes that fear and control are the cornerstones of true authority. But, as Machiavelli himself recognized, while fear may secure power, it doesn’t build trust, and it doesn’t sustain a community.

In The Clever Crown of Mach the Fox, I wanted to explore how cunning leadership, driven by ego and manipulation, is ultimately hollow. Unlike the strong, enduring leadership that Machiavelli described—a leader who commands with both fear and respect—Mach learns that true strength comes not from ruling with fear, but from listening, serving, and cultivating trust.

Through this fable, I wanted to remind readers—especially future leaders—that appearances can deceive, and true power lies in the ability to connect, serve, and grow with the people around you.

—Ross Boulton