The Fox and the Grapes

It was a scorching hot summer afternoon, the kind where the sun beats down so hard that the air shimmers above the ground. In the quiet countryside, a Fox was trotting along a dusty path. He had been walking for miles and his throat felt as dry as sandpaper. His stomach gave a little rumble, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“I would give anything for a cool drink or a juicy snack,” the Fox panted, his tongue lolling out.

Just then, he turned a corner and saw a sight that made his eyes widen with delight. There, climbing up an old wooden trellis, was a magnificent grapevine. And hanging from that vine were the most beautiful bunches of grapes he had ever seen. They were large, round, and purple, glistening in the sunlight as if they were bursting with sweet, refreshing juice.

“Oh my!” the Fox whispered, licking his lips. “Those grapes look absolutely divine. Just the thing to quench my thirst and satisfy my hunger.”

He trotted up to the trellis and gazed up. The grapes were dangling quite high, higher than he could reach just by standing on his hind legs. “No matter,” thought the Fox confidently. “I am a clever and agile fox. This will be easy.”

He walked back a few paces to get a running start. He took a deep breath, ran forward, and LEAPED! He stretched his paws as high as they could go, snapping his jaws at the lowest bunch.

Snap!

His teeth clicked on empty air. He had missed the grapes by a few inches. He landed on the ground with a soft thud. “Hmm,” he grunted, dusting himself off. “I didn’t judge the height correctly. Let me try again.”

This time, he backed up even further. He concentrated hard, eyeing the purple prize. “One, two, three, GO!” he shouted to himself. He sprinted forward and jumped with all his might, launching himself into the air like a furry rocket.

But alas! He was still just a tiny bit too short. His paws brushed the leaves, but the grapes remained safely out of reach.

The Fox was getting annoyed now. He was hot, he was tired, and the sight of those delicious grapes was teasing him. He tried again. And again. And again. He jumped from the left, he jumped from the right. He even tried to scramble up the wooden post, but his claws couldn’t find a grip.

After a long hour of jumping and tumbling, the poor Fox was exhausted. He lay panting on the ground, his beautiful coat dusty and his legs trembling with fatigue. He looked up at the grapes one last time. They looked just as juicy and tempting as before, swinging gently in the summer breeze.

Realizing he would never reach them, the Fox stood up and tried to look dignified. He brushed the dirt off his tail and turned his nose up in the air.

“Hmph!” he scoffed loudly, so anyone listening would hear. “Who wants those grapes anyway? I bet they are rock hard and sour. They probably taste terrible! I wouldn’t eat them even if they fell right into my mouth.”

With that, the Fox marched away, head held high, convincing himself that he didn’t want the grapes at all. But deep down, he knew the truth—he just couldn’t reach them.

Moral of the Story: It is easy to despise what you cannot have, but making excuses doesn’t change the truth.