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us. environmental protection ggency*/9 7d
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this fable is dedicated
to the children
that they may help us
to know a dragon
when we see one
ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION AGENCY
an environmental protection publication
in the solid waste management series (sw-105)
For sale by the Superintendent of Documents,
U.S. Government Printing Office, Washington, D.C. 20402
Price: 55 cents, domestic postpaid; 40 cents, GPO Bookstore
Stock No. 5502-00106
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1
Once upon a time in a not-so-far-away kingdom
there lived a wicked dragon. For many years
this dragon dwelled quietly in his cave at the
bottom of a hill, dozing and snacking a lot,
and growing a little—ever so little—each year.
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While he dozed, the grownups in the kingdom worked and played,
racing one another home on Fridays and taking their paper plates
and cups on picnics in the park.
The wind caught the paper plates and cups and
tossed them down the hill where the dragon
snatched them with his hungry green jaws.
Then—alack! alas!—the dragon
grew a little, ever so little.
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And the children gathered
tiny violets in the woods.
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Some days the dragon paced restlessly in his cave.
His pacing wore a path in the moss,
frightening small animals who scurried
out of the valley toward the village.
"Hark!" said one of the grownups, tapping her heels
on the sidewalk and staring hard at an animal.
But nobody else noticed anything furry.
S The grownups kept on working and playing,
( j driving their cars home from the office
SsrJ and driving them to the zoo on Saturdays.
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The fumes from the gasoline oozed through the tailpipes and settled
over the valley where the dragon lived. The dragon squinted
his bulging green eyes until he finally fell asleep. While he slept—
alack! alas!—the dragon grew a little, ever so little.
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One day the dragon snorted in his sleep.
His snort stirred the air and raised
the sulphur dust outside his cave,
sending a gust of hot air up the hill
toward the village.
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"Hark!" said one of the grownups, wriggling his nose and sneezing.
But nobody else noticed anything stinky. The grownups
kept on working and playing, stuffing black rubber tires
into factory furnaces and throwing their beer cans
and soda bottles into the river.
The beer cans and soda bottles floated with the current
to the bottom of the hill. The dragon gnashed them
with his long sharp teeth. Then—alack! alas!
—the dragon grew a little, ever so little.
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10
Again one night the dragon stirred,
this time rolling over in his sleep.
He caused a tremendous rumble,
loosening dirt and cinders that rose
in a whirlwind toward the village.
"Hark!" said one of the grownups,
rubbing his eyes that smarted from the dirt
and turning to his wife for sympathy.
But nobody else noticed anything dirty.
The rest of the grownups kept on working
and playing, spraying bug killer that crept
into the orchard ponds
and spreading fertilizer on their lawns.
The fertilizer mixed with the rain
that trickled into the river.
The dragon gulped the river water
with his rough red tongue. Then—
alack! alas!—the dragon
grew a little, ever so little.
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One night the dragon opened one eye,
one cold green eye, and yawned.
The yawn created a terrific noise,
thundering up the hill
and over the roofs of the village.
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"Hark!" said one of the grownups, holding his ears that throbbed from the noise.
But nobody else noticed anything loud. The grownups kept on working and playing,
throwing tons of paper into the wastebasket and flying in airplanes to the beach.
The planes' thick smoke mixed with the clouds that sifted soot into the river.
The dragon melted the soot with his hot smelly breath and slurped it into his mouth.
Then—alack! alas!—the dragon grew a little, ever so little.
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Then one night, one black night
when the moon stayed inside,
the dragon awakened.
He stretched.
He scratched his chapped stomach.
He walked groggily to the river
outside his cave.
The dragon took a bath.
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All over the kingdom the river stopped singing.
The river stopped dancing.
The river stood still.
Out of their houses in the black, black night came the grownups
"Where is the croak of the bullfrog?" they asked,
stumbling in the dark.
"Where is the smell of the watercress?
Where is the sparkle of the moonlight on the water?"
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Suddenly, at the bottom of the hill,
the dragon roared. He shook his wet scales.
He stretched his ugly tail.. r*,
Then slowly, heavily,
he started uphill toward the village.
"Look!" shouted the grownups, all together.
"Here conies a dragon up the hill!
He is very big, big enough to gobble us up!
We must do something.^*3®*
The grownups did not work. They did not pi;
They huddled together and thought,
and thought, and thought.
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19
Early next day, before the morning-glory had opened to the sun,
a line of white trucks rumbled along the main street
of the village. Into the first truck the grownups piled
the beer cans, the peanut butter lids: all the metal
they could find. Into the second truck they piled the
Sunday paper and the picnic plates that blew around the park.
Into another truck they loaded soda bottles and jelly jars,
and the tiny containers that held the babies' food.
Into the last truck went black rubber tires,
and corn cobs and chicken bones
left from Saturday's supper.
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Then the grownups hauled away the truckloads of hard things,
solid things that made the world so dirty.
They stopped the white trucks at a new machine
the men had built outside the village.
The machine squashed the old beer cans
and melted the metal to make new ones.
It mashed up the picnic plates,
the tons and tons of Sunday papers,
to make fresh paper all over again.
It crushed the soda bottles into tiny pieces
to make shingles for the houses in the village.
And
the children's eyes
grew wide
in wonder.
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Some grownups loaded more old tires onto a train
that chugged its way over the hill to the ocean.
There they piled the tires into a reef
where the fish could live.
Other grownups burned some of the trash
that could not be used for anything else.
They made steam that heated the houses of the village
on nippy mornings.
And the children
held out their hands
to the warmth.
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A few grownups strained the bug spray from the orchard ponds
and the fertilizer from the river.
They moved some of their cars off the street
to make room for the bus to take them to the office.
Other grownups grounded the airplane with its gray smoke
so they could fit it with a filter to keep the sky clean.
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Finally it was time to cover the last of the trash,
the things that nobody could use again
and nobody could burn.
The grownups buried those solid wastes
in layers underground.
Over each layer they spread dirt,
loads and loads of brown dirt.
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On the top layer they planted green grass
and willow trees.
They made a playground with swings
that swung as high as the sky.
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And the children
ran barefoot
through the grass.
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Late that night
all the grownups came home.
Their hands had blisters.
Their hair was mussed.
Their faces were sunburned.
Their fingernails were dirty.
But they were smiling.
When the round yellow moon
came up over the kingdom
all the people of the village
had gathered at the edge of the hill.
"Listen to the croak of the bullfrog!"
they shouted, all together.
"Smell the smell of the watercress!
See the sparkle of the moonlight
on the water!"
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It was true—
in the village all the good things
had come back to the river:
the croak of the bullfrog,
the smell of the watercress,
the sparkle of the moonlight
on the water.
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Since that night
none of the grownups have seen hide nor scale
of the hungry dragon
in that kingdom not so far away from here.
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Only the children know where he lives.
~ U S GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE 1973 0-498-439
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