The Jackdaw and the Fox

The leaves were gone and the wind had teeth. But one old fig tree had lost track of the seasons, and there on its bare branches hung a few small, hard, green figs.

A jackdaw found them. He was so hungry that he could barely fly, and when he pecked at one it was as hard as a stone. "They will ripen," he said. "I will wait."

He waited all morning. He waited all afternoon. He waited through the long cold night with his feathers puffed up against the frost. The figs stayed small. The figs stayed green. The figs stayed hard.

On the third day a fox came trotting by and looked up. "You have been sitting there a long time," he said. "What are you waiting for?"

"These figs," said the jackdaw. "Soon they will be sweet." The fox looked at the hard green fruit. He looked at the grey winter sky.

"You are fooling yourself, sir," he said. "Your hope is strong enough to trick you, but it will never fill your belly."