The Raven, the Fox, and the Morsel
A fable about the things patience cannot claim
A Raven landed upon the branch of an old oak with a morsel of bread held firmly in his beak.
Below him, a Fox stopped walking.
He looked at the bread, then at the Raven, and quietly sat beneath the tree.
The Raven expected flattery. None came.
He expected tricks. None came.
The Fox merely waited.
The sun climbed higher. The Raven shifted from one foot to the other, but the Fox did not move. When the wind shook the branches, the Fox raised his head hopefully. When the Raven adjusted the morsel in his beak, the Fox’s tail began to twitch.
At last, the Raven swallowed the bread.
The Fox leapt to his feet.
“I waited all morning for that!”
The Raven looked down at him.
“You waited for me to lose it.”
“But I was patient,” protested the Fox. “Surely patience deserves a reward.”
“Patience may help you earn what you seek,” said the Raven, “but it cannot make another creature’s meal your own.”
The Fox stared at the empty branch beside the Raven.
He had waited so long that, somewhere along the way, he had begun to believe the morsel belonged to him.
Without another word, he returned to the path and began searching for food of his own.
The Raven watched him disappear among the trees.
Then he flew away, leaving nothing behind but a few crumbs too small for either of them to notice.
Moral
Waiting for what belongs to another does not make it yours.
