A crow, sharp-eyed and quick-winged, spotted a fine piece of cheese on a windowsill one morning and carried it off in her beak. She landed high in an oak tree, pleased with herself, and settled in to enjoy her prize.
A fox came trotting along the path below. He looked up, saw the crow, and saw the cheese. He sat down and considered the situation.
“What a magnificent bird,” said the fox. “I have never seen feathers so glossy, nor a form so graceful. Surely a creature of such beauty must have a voice to match. If she can sing, she would be the queen of all birds without question.”
The crow had never thought of herself as particularly queenly. She straightened up. She ruffled her feathers. And she opened her beak to sing.
The cheese fell.
The fox snapped it up, offered a small nod of thanks, and went on his way.
The crow sat in the oak tree for a long while after that, turning the matter over in her mind. It was a better lesson than the cheese would have been, she decided, though considerably harder to swallow.
Flatter no one, and trust those who flatter you least of all.