The Fox and the Crow

A sleek, black crow sat perched high upon the gnarled branch of an ancient oak tree. In her beak, she held a generous piece of cheese, stolen from a farmhouse window sill. The aroma was rich and savory, and she was preparing to enjoy her feast in solitude.

Down below, a hungry fox was prowling through the forest, his nose twitching at the scent of the prize. His stomach grumbled, but he knew he could not climb the tree to reach the bird. Instead, he relied on his sharp wit and silver tongue. He trotted to the base of the oak, looked up with a wide, admiring grin, and began to speak with honeyed words.

'My dear Madam Crow,' the fox called out, his voice smooth as velvet, 'how truly magnificent you look today! Your plumage is as glossy as a raven’s wing, and your stature possesses the grace of a queen. If your voice is half as beautiful as your appearance, you surely must be the finest songbird in all the woods.'

The crow, who was accustomed to being ignored or chased away, felt a swell of vanity rise in her chest. She had never been complimented before, and the fox’s words were intoxicating. She tilted her head, enjoying the praise, and began to preen. The fox continued his flattery, 'It is a tragedy that such a talented creature should remain silent. Please, sing just one melody for me, that I might know the true queen of the forest.'

Unable to resist the urge to prove her greatness, the crow opened her beak wide to let out a loud, proud caw. But as she did, the piece of cheese slipped from her grasp and tumbled down, down, down through the air. The fox snapped it up in a single motion, his eyes glinting with triumph. As he finished his meal, he looked up at the foolish, silent bird and chuckled. 'My dear,' he said, 'your voice may be loud, but your sense is quite small. Next time, remember that a flatterer is never a friend.' With a flick of his bushy tail, the fox vanished into the shadows, leaving the crow to ponder her lost lunch.