It's sad when someone does something stupid. And again. And another. And then it’s all over, it’s too late to wise up.
The young crow was the daughter of an old and wise crow. But no matter how much and what the mother taught her daughter, she did not remember anything. It was as if the wind was blowing all the mother’s advice out of the young crow’s head.
Most of all, the young crow loved to fly to the seashore. Here the waves threw out silvery fish, and small crabs, and hairy worms, and all sorts of shells, and many other things that could be pecked. And she walked along the shore for a long time and insatiably pecked everything that came across.
The young crow especially liked the seaweed that people collected, boiled and ate. Well, people, of course, they eat different plants. And why does she, the crow? But she ate them every day, and so much, as if she wanted there to be nothing left for people. Indeed, somehow there were no wet algae on the shore. She began to peck at the dry ones. And she choked. He can no longer breathe.
An old crow saw that something bad had happened to her daughter. She flew to her, ran around, but could not help - a young crow was suffocating. And it would have died if the vertigo had not been nearby - a small but skillful bird. She heals many people. And the young crow cleared her throat.
It would seem that now the young crow should behave more carefully, smarter. But where is it? She pecked at anything again. Greedily, hastily, as if someone was going to take away a crab or a worm from her.
One day, among the wet algae that had just been thrown out by a wave, she noticed a large bluish shell. It was a mussel. The mussels, of course, did not want to stay on the shore. She would like to go to the sea, to the bottom and deeper. And here the algae entangled on all sides. And she began to get out of them with difficulty, clumsily. He gets out a little, rests and gets out again. But she was completely tired and there wasn’t enough fresh water - she opened the doors. She hoped that maybe a wave would roll closer and splash her.
At that moment, a young crow jumped up to her. I saw the white elastic body of a shell between the valves. Oh, how delicious it is to swallow it! Beak - a bale...
And then - in an instant! - the mussel closed its flaps and squeezed them so tightly, pinched the young crow’s beak so much that it could neither scream nor breathe. He just desperately shakes his head to throw the mussel away. But no, the shell grabbed with a death grip. The young crow tried to pull it off its beak with its paws. No, apparently, I caused great pain to the mussel, and it decided: I will die along with the crow, but I will not forgive.
That's how they died.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru