The Fox and the Grapes

A fox had not eaten since morning, and as the afternoon wore on his stomach began to ache with hunger. Wandering through an orchard, he came upon a vine heavy with ripe, purple grapes hanging just above his head. His mouth watered at the sight of them. He crouched low and sprang upward, snapping his jaws at the lowest bunch, but it swung just out of reach. He backed up, ran, and leapt again, higher this time, but his teeth closed on nothing but air. Again and again he tried, circling the vine, eyeing the fruit from every angle, but no matter how he jumped he could not reach it. At last, exhausted and out of breath, the fox sat down in the dirt and looked up at the grapes one final time. "They're probably sour anyway," he muttered, brushing the dust from his coat. "Not worth the trouble." And with his nose in the air, he turned and trotted off into the woods, telling himself he had never wanted them at all.