The Worm That Wasn’t Free

Incentives and Consequences - Part 3 of the Economic Series

By Ross Boulton © 2025

In Ribbonroot where roots run deep,

A squirrel named Rilla rose from sleep.

She packed her pouch, then proudly stood—

To dig up worms as best she could.

She sorted them by stripe and wiggle,

Brushed off moss and gave a giggle.

“Firm or red, just two small pebbles!

They’re freshest when the forest dribbles!”

The critters came with cheers and clinks,

They paid their pebbles, filled their sinks.

Milo bought a dozen slim,

And Grizzle left with five for him.

But Crabbie Crow, atop a sign,

Squawked loud, “This worm stand isn’t fine!

Why pay for worms beneath our feet?

They’re nature’s gift! They should be free!”

He posted signs on every tree:

“FREE WORMS FOR ALL! DIG LIBERTY!”

The crowd agreed, the cheers rang loud—

And off they dashed, a hungry crowd.

Rilla blinked. Her pouch hung thin.

“No one’s paid since 9:09 in.”

She packed her tools with furrowed brow—

“If no one buys… then I dig how?”

By noon, the trails were pocked and bare.

The worms were gone from everywhere.

With no one paid to dig or sort,

The market fell—of every sort.

Crabbie frowned, “I feel betrayed.

I skipped my meal. I should’ve paid!”

Lantern hovered, dull and slow,

“There’s no reward—so none will go.”

Maple honked from high above,

“Fair work needs something back, my love.

When effort’s asked but value’s blocked,

The shovels rust, the trails get rocked.”

Owliver added with a stare,

“A worm is food, but work is care.

And those who dig deserve their fee—

Not every ‘free’ is truly free.”

The next day dawned with clearer thought.

The forest missed the worms they’d bought.

They came to Rilla, pebbles clutched,

Apologetic, kind, and hushed.

She grinned and placed her stand once more,

With sorted worms and signs galore.

One simply read in beetle ink:

“To dig, we all must share the link.”

Why I Wrote This: The Worm That Wasn’t Free

By Ross Boulton © 2025

This fable is part of my Forest Economics Series, where big ideas—like value, choice, and trade—are woven into small woodland tales. In The Worm That Wasn’t Free, I wanted to explore a truth that often surprises children (and many adults too): incentives matter.

Too often, “free” sounds like kindness. And sometimes it is. But when it comes to effort, labor, and sustaining a service—like Rilla’s worm stand—people need a reason to show up. That reason is often called an incentive. It might be a reward, a wage, a thank-you, or a price that makes the work worth doing.

When Crabbie demands free worms, he isn’t being evil—he’s being idealistic. But good intentions don’t dig holes. And when the incentive disappears, so do the worms. The lesson here is simple: what we reward, continues. What we don’t, fades.

I wrote this to help young readers see how pricing isn’t punishment—it’s partnership. Incentives create balance between giver and getter, worker and eater, helper and helped. Without them, systems stall. With them, effort grows.

Just like worms.