The Foolish Crow

One cold winter day, the forest was quiet. Snow covered the ground. The squirrels and hedgehogs were sleeping in their warm homes. The birds had flown to warmer places. Not even a snail could be seen. Only a big black crow was flying through the cold sky, looking for food.

She had been flying all day but hadn’t found even a crumb. No mice, no leftovers—nothing at all. She was cold, tired, and very hungry.

“I guess I’ll go to bed without dinner tonight,” she sighed.

Just as she was about to give up, she saw a thin trail of smoke rising far away.

“Smoke means fire... Fire means someone is cooking… and cooking means food!” thought the Crow.

She flapped her wings quickly and flew toward the smoke. It came from a big farmhouse. Inside, the farmer’s wife was cooking a warm stew. Fresh bread sat on the table, and by the open window, a piece of butter and a big chunk of cheese were cooling.

The Crow spotted the cheese. Without a sound, she flew down, grabbed the cheese in her beak, and flew away before anyone noticed.

She felt proud. “Ah! Nothing like a nice piece of cheese on a freezing day,” she thought.

She flew to a tall tree and perched on a high branch, ready to enjoy her meal.

But she wasn’t alone.

A clever old fox was hiding in the bushes nearby. He, too, had searched all day for food but had found nothing. Just as he was about to leave, he spotted the Crow with the cheese.

“Mmm… that looks tasty,” said the Fox. “If only I could get that cheese.”

Then he had an idea.

The Fox walked up to the tree and looked up. “Good evening, Mrs. Crow!” he said kindly. “You look beautiful today!”

The Crow was surprised. The Fox had never spoken so sweetly to her before.

“And your feathers!” said the Fox. “So shiny, so black! Like polished coal! You are the most elegant bird I’ve ever seen.”

The Crow puffed out her chest. She liked what she was hearing.

“Your wings are strong, your flight is amazing, and your claws—oh! Stronger than iron!”

The Crow flapped her wings proudly and gave a little hop so he could see her sharp claws.

The Fox smiled to himself, then said softly, “But I haven’t heard your beautiful voice, Mrs. Crow. It must be as lovely as the rest of you. Won’t you sing a little song for me?”

The Crow was thrilled. No one had ever said her voice was nice before. Everyone said it was loud and scratchy. But the Fox wanted to hear her sing!

She opened her beak wide and gave a loud “Caw!”

And—oops!—the cheese fell straight down.

The Fox caught it mid-air and gulped it down in one bite.

“Thank you, Mrs. Crow!” he said with a grin. “Next time, don’t let flattery steal your lunch!”

He trotted off, laughing to himself.

The Crow sat on the branch, feeling silly and hungry. She had been tricked by her own pride.

From that day on, she remembered: Don’t believe everything you hear—especially from a hungry fox!