The Crows and the Owls

High in the ancient oak trees of a shadowy forest, lived a flock of Crows. They were noisy and cheerful, cawing from dawn to dusk. However, they had a terrible enemy—a parliament of large, fierce Owls who lived in a dark cave nearby.

The Owls were nocturnal. They slept all day and hunted at night. The Crows, who slepped at night, were defenseless in the dark. Every night, the Owls would swoop down silently on their soft wings and attack the Crows’ nests. They would bully them, peck them, and chase them away. The Crows were terrified and tired.

The Crow King called a meeting. “We cannot live like this,” he cawed. “The Owls are stronger than us, and they can see in the dark. We need a plan to save our home.” An old, wise Crow named Sthirajivi stepped forward. “We cannot defeat them with strength,” he said. “We must use our wits.”

He whispered a secret plan to the King. The next day, the Crows staged a fake fight. They cawed loudly and pretended to attack Sthirajivi. They chased him right to the entrance of the Owl’s cave and left him there, pretending he was banished.

The Owl King heard the commotion and looked out. He saw the old crow lying alone on the ground. “Help me!” cried Sthirajivi. “My own people have thrown me out because I praised the wisdom of the Owls!”

The Owl King was flattered. “This crow is wise to like us,” he thought. Despite his advisors saying, “Never trust a crow,” the Owl King allowed Sthirajivi to live at the entrance of their cave.

Sthirajivi lived there for weeks. He learned the Owls’ routine. He saw that they slept very deeply during the day, huddled together in the damp, dark cave. Every day, Sthirajivi would “arrange” his nest at the cave entrance. He gathered dry twigs, leaves, and fluffy grass. The Owls thought he was just making a bed, but he was building a pile.

One hot, sunny afternoon, when the Owls were fast asleep inside, the pile of dry wood blocked the cave entrance almost completely. Sthirajivi flew up and called his friends. “Now! Bring fire!”

The Crows, who had been waiting, swooped down. Some carried smoldering sticks from a nearby campfire. They dropped them onto the pile of dry twigs. Crack! Whoosh! The dry wood caught fire instantly. Thick, grey smoke billowed into the cave. It wasn’t a big, dangerous fire, but it was incredibly smoky.

Inside the cave, the Owls woke up coughing. “Cough! Cough! What is this smoke?” Their eyes watered. They couldn’t breathe. The smoke was stinging and smelly. “Flee! Run!” hooted the Owl King.

The Owls stumbled out of the cave, coughing and sputtering. They hated the bright sunlight, and they hated the smoke even more. “Let us leave this place!” they cried. “These Crows are too clever for us!”

The entire parliament of Owls flew away, far across the mountains, to find a new, smoke-free home where they wouldn’t bother anyone. The Crows cheered. They claimed the forest back, safe and sound, thanks to the wisdom of the old crow.

Moral of the Story: Intelligence can defeat even the strongest enemy.

Moral of the Story: Do not trust your enemies blindly.