The Thirsty crow

It was the peak of summer, and the sun blazed down with all its might. The sky was cloudless, and the earth beneath had cracked with dryness. Trees stood still with drooping leaves, and rivers and ponds had shrunk to puddles. The animals in the forest sought shade and water, but both were hard to find.

Among them was a black-feathered crow who had been flying for hours. His wings felt heavy, and his beak was dry. His throat ached with thirst. He had searched from one end of the forest to the other, but no water was in sight.

"Oh, I must find some water," he murmured to himself, his voice hoarse. "If I don’t, I might not see another sunrise."

He flew over dry lands, peered into empty coconut shells, hovered near hollow tree trunks, and landed near rocks, but every attempt ended in disappointment.

Just when he was about to give up, something caught his eye—a small hut on the edge of the forest. Near the hut stood a clay pot under the shade of a neem tree. His heart leapt.

“Maybe there’s water in that pot!” the crow said to himself with new hope.

With one last burst of energy, he flew to the pot and perched on its rim. He looked inside eagerly.

Yes! There was water! But alas, it was barely enough to wet his beak, let alone quench his thirst. The level of water was too low, and the pot was too deep.

The crow tried to push his head further in, but his beak could not reach the water. He tried tipping the pot, but it was too heavy and sturdy.

He sat on the edge and thought. The heat pressed down on him, and he could feel his strength slowly fading. But then a thought came to him.

“This is not the time to panic,” he told himself. “It’s time to think. There must be a way to raise the water level.”

He looked around and noticed small stones scattered nearby—round, smooth pebbles of different sizes.

“That’s it!” he chirped. “If I drop the pebbles into the pot, the water will rise!”

Without wasting time, the crow flew down, picked up a pebble in his beak, and dropped it into the pot. Plunk! The water moved slightly. Encouraged, he picked another, and another, and another.

One by one, he dropped pebbles into the pot. With every pebble, the water level inched higher. Plunk… plunk… plunk…

Time passed. The sun was still hot, and the crow was still tired, but he didn’t stop. His determination was stronger than his thirst.

After dropping dozens of pebbles, he looked again into the pot. The water was now within his reach.

He leaned down and drank.

Oh! What a sweet relief! The cool water washed down his dry throat and refreshed his tired body. His feathers fluttered in joy. The breeze seemed cooler now, the world a little brighter.

After drinking to his heart’s content, the crow took a deep breath and looked up at the sky.

“I may not be the strongest,” he thought, “but I can always be the smartest.”

As he flew away, feeling refreshed and proud, he spotted a group of young birds resting under a tree. He flew down to share his tale.

“There will be times when life seems impossible,” he told them. “Times when solutions aren’t obvious. But never give up. When strength fails, use your mind. You never know what a little clever thinking can do.”

The young birds listened in awe, and from that day forward, the crow’s story spread across the forest. Animals spoke of the clever bird who solved his problem not with force, but with wisdom.

Moral:

Intelligence and patience are powerful tools. Where strength fails, clever thinking can lead the way.