Long ago, when America was still covered with thick forests and wild rivers, a baby was born so big that it took five storks just to deliver him. His parents named him Paul Bunyan. Baby Paul was so large that when he clapped his hands, the windows rattled in every house for miles around. His cradle was a lumber wagon, and his lullabies shook the pine trees.
Paul grew faster than a cornstalk in July. By the time he was one week old, he could fit into his father's clothes. By the time he was one month old, he was taller than the tallest tree in the forest. His appetite was enormous — he ate forty bowls of porridge for breakfast and drank a whole river to wash it down.
One winter, the snow fell so hard it turned blue. Paul was walking through the frozen forest when he heard a tiny sound — a sad little moo. He brushed away the blue snow and found a baby ox, shivering and cold, with fur as blue as the winter sky. Paul gently picked up the little calf and tucked him inside his warm coat.
Paul named the ox Babe, and from that day on, they were the best of friends. Babe grew almost as fast as Paul had. He was so big that it took a crow a whole day to fly from one of his horns to the other. And his fur stayed blue forever, a beautiful reminder of the winter when Paul had saved him.
Together, Paul and Babe became the greatest logging team the world had ever seen. Paul could chop down ten trees with a single swing of his giant axe, and Babe could drag a whole forest of logs to the river. The other lumberjacks watched in amazement. They had never seen anything like it.
One day, the logging road was so crooked and twisty that the wagons kept getting stuck. Paul had an idea. He tied one end of the road to a big stump and had Babe pull the other end. Babe pulled and pulled with all his might, and the road straightened out like a ribbon. The lumberjacks cheered and whooped.
Paul's camp cook, a man named Hot Biscuit Slim, had to cook meals in a frying pan so big that boys strapped bacon to their feet and skated across it to grease it. The flapjacks were flipped with a crane, and the syrup flowed from a fountain. Breakfast time at Paul's camp was the most wonderful sight in all the north woods.
The loggers worked hard all through the seasons. In summer they felled the great pines, and in winter they hauled them over frozen lakes. But Paul always made sure everyone was happy. He told stories around the campfire, and Babe would lie beside the men, keeping them warm with his big blue body.
One year, the river jammed up with so many logs that the water stopped flowing. Nobody could fix it. But Paul Bunyan walked into the river, which only came up to his knees, and he pushed and pulled until every log broke free. The river flowed again, carrying the timber all the way to the sawmill.
People say that Paul and Babe created many of the wonders of America. When Paul dragged his axe behind him, it carved out the Grand Canyon. When Babe's hoofprints filled with rain, they became the ten thousand lakes of Minnesota. Every mountain and valley had a story about the big lumberjack and his blue ox.
As the years passed, the forests grew smaller and the frontier moved westward. Paul and Babe walked on ahead, always looking for new adventures. Some people say they went to Alaska, where the trees are still tall and the wilderness goes on forever.
But the lumberjacks never forgot Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. On cold winter nights, when the wind howls through the pines, they still tell stories about the giant who loved the forest and his loyal blue friend. And if you listen carefully, you might just hear a distant chop-chop-chop — that's Paul, still working, still laughing, somewhere beyond the horizon.
