The Crow and the Pitcher

After a long, dry summer, a crow flying over a garden spotted a tall pitcher standing beneath a tree. Desperate for water, he swooped down and peered inside, delighted to see a little water shimmering at the bottom. But when he dipped in his beak, he found the water was too low to reach — no matter how far he stretched his neck, his beak came up dry. He tried tipping the pitcher over, but it was far too heavy for him to move. He tried breaking it, pecking hard at the clay sides, but they would not crack. For a while he simply sat on the rim, exhausted and thirsty, wondering if he would have to give up and search elsewhere. Then his eye fell on a scattering of small pebbles lying in the dirt nearby, and an idea came to him. One by one, he picked up the pebbles in his beak and dropped them into the pitcher, watching the water rise, ever so slightly, with each one. He kept at it patiently, pebble after pebble, until at last the water had risen high enough for him to reach. The crow drank deeply, satisfied at last, and flew off with the quiet knowledge that patience and clever thinking will often succeed where brute strength cannot.